


X-Men: The Early Years

by faraday682



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 103,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faraday682/pseuds/faraday682
Summary: This beloved series by L. Burke follows the Original Five (Scott, Hank, Warren, Jean & Bobby) as teens at the mansion under Professor Xavier's mentorship. These are tales of the downtime between X-missions — all the normal hijinks that teenagers commit... well, almost normal. Add mutant powers, a crafty, strategical genius, a red head with a temper, a science whiz with a thing for Twinkies and Star Trek, his side-kick who freezes underwear, and a goodhearted millionaire with wings — not to mention an occasionally exasperated mentor and a perky social worker who's more perceptive than she seems. If you ever wondered what they were up to when not out saving the world, or how Jean survived four testosterone-poisoned boys, this is your insight into those early years. Very few writers are quite so... original... when it comes to adolescent capers.
Relationships: Jean Grey/Scott Summers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. New Beginnings and Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> X-Men and its characters belong to Marvel. The stories of _X-Men: The Early Years_ were written by Lelia Burke, and can also be found [here](http://www.madweasel.com/earlyyears/) and [here](http://redshades.tripod.com/archive.htm#L_Burke).  
>   
> It isn't really necessary to know much about the comicverse to enjoy these tales; a basic understanding of mutants and the X-world will do. This series does move toward and assume the (eventual) canon Scott/Jean relationship, but until the last, they're more about pranks than romance.  
>   
> Some folks have asked if she's still writing; no, she's not. Most of these were written by the end of 2002/03.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **From original author:** This story takes place during the first night that Scott spends under Xavier's roof. I also borrowed elements from Lobdell's story when Amelia leaves Charles. I tried to tie the events of that night up from Scott's point of view.

Scott Summers had meant to leave. What made him hesitate going out the window in to the night, he would never know. He had decided from the moment he had been brought to this place, he would never fit in. The mansion was huge — bigger than Scott had ever thought possible, looking at it from the outside. When he had walked inside, the only word he could use to describe the effect was cold and impersonal. If Scott hadn't known any better, he would have sworn that no one lived in this house. It had all the warmth of a museum. There were not pictures on the walls to remind you of happier times or show any close friends or family. There were no personal effects anywhere -- no sign of a half-read magazine on the coffee table. The whole place was perfect in a very cold sort of way. The place didn't have any warmth to it at all and that just made Scott wonder about the man who owned it.

The only imperfection that he could find was on the grounds. There was a small garden by a small corner of the house. There had been beautiful roses growing there at one time. Now most of them were dead from abuse and neglect. There was just five alive in the bed, struggling against the weeds trying to choke them out and neglect. For some odd reason, Scott emphasized with those roses. Those five continued to struggle to grow, regardless of how much growing deformed and warped them. When Scott looked a little closer, he decided that they would never bloom. That thought just managed to depress Scott even more. He then headed up to his room.

It was the bed that made him decide he was leaving. It was the softest bed he had tried to sleep in for years. It was just too damned soft. His mind would just not register what his body was telling him. He ended up just tossing and turning. That's what had snapped him about the place. He would never fit in here. He was a teenage runaway, and before that an orphan. What was he even thinking that he would fit in to a place like this for even a minute, the best thing he could do is pack what little he owned and bug out.

Frankly, he thought Xavier was a little crazy anyway. He talked about how some day humans and mutants — is that what he had called people like them — could live and coexist together in peace. Scott thought it was a wonderful dream, and part of him really wished that Xavier was right. But Scott sincerely doubted that Xavier had looked in to the eyes of a mob before. Scott had, and it had been the scariest experience of his life; it had been his first real look at hate. Those eyes still haunted his dreams. Scott knew to this day that if Jack hadn't shown up when he did, someone would have ended up dead. It'd probably be him, but he might have in a moment of desperation fired in to that mob, to try to save himself. Part of him, to this day, wondered if he would have been able to do it, even if not doing it would be at the expense of his own life. He guessed he would never know.

Xavier may be a little crazy, but other than that he seemed to be the alright sort. Then again, he had thought that about Jack when he had saved him from that mob. Jack taught you that first impressions were not always right. Scott had ended up going from one nightmare to another. He quickly found out that Jack only wanted him so Scott could help him commit crimes, not because there was any human warmth in the man. He quickly found out that Jack was not only a bully but a monster as well. The one time Scott had tried to run away, Jack had tracked him down and beat him so badly he couldn't get out of bed for a week. Scott had honestly thought during that beating that Jack was going to kill him. After that Jack had never really taken his eyes off Scott enough for Scott to plan another escape. Jack had beat him a couple of times after that first beating, usually when Scott had objected to Jack hurting someone, but memories of that first beating had always stayed with him. He had had his stuff packed and was just about to go out the window when he heard Xavier's and Amelia's voices arguing.

"What am I suppose to do with the boy Amelia? Throw him back out on the streets? He has no one and no where to go. Where should I send him? Back where I found him?" Xavier's voice sounded angry.

"You're supposed to find him a foster home! Don't keep him here, and make him part of your personal army! Don't you understand if you start this, Eric will retaliate and find his own students?! You are pushing our people towards a war, a war NO ONE is going to win! Find him a foster home!"

"It is not that simple and you know it! That boy has a mutant power he can not control. What foster home would take him? At least here I can protect him, try to help him learn to control his powers so he is not a threat to himself or others. So I ask you again: what am I "supposed" to with him?" Xavier shouted. Scott flinched; they must think that he's asleep.

"I have tried to talk you out of this for weeks. Obviously it didn't work. I can't stay here and watch you do this, I sorry. I am leaving tonight," Amelia stated so calmly, something in Scott knew that she wasn't changing her mind.

"Amelia we can work this out." Apparently Xavier thought she was serious too.

"No we can't. I am leaving Charles." Amelia's voice had an icy edge to it. Scott at this time decided to creep out of his room and see what was going on down for himself. He ducked behind the stair railing over looking the landing to the front door. From his hiding place, Scott could see what was happening down by the front door. Amelia was standing there with a suitcase, and Xavier was still trying to convince her she should stay and try to work things out. Xavier finally snapped.

"I am not going to let you leave me. " Amelia just stopped in her tracks, like someone was controlling her mind. Scott's only thought was "Oh, shit". An expression of horror came across Xavier's face suddenly, and all at once Amelia was herself again. Amelia just gave Xavier an expression of horror, replaced quickly by one of complete fury.

"Amelia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean." She just came right up and slapped him. Scott could feel that slap up on the second floor. After that, Amelia just vanished in to a whirl of mist. Scott quickly crept back in to his room. Trying to process what he had just seen. Xavier let her go. He could have used his powers to make her stay but he had let her go. Jack never would of let her walk through that door but Xavier had. Maybe, just maybe Xavier wasn't anything like Jack at all? Jack had never walked away from an opportunity to bully someone. Could Xavier be on the level about wanting to help him?

He chose to help me over her staying. Scott bit his lip, no one had ever chose him before. Alex's foster parents didn't. No matter how much he and Alex begged not to be spilt up, they had taken Alex and left Scott. Jack only chose him because Scott's power would be helpful with his crimes. Never in his life had someone chose him first. Frankly Scott didn't really know how to process this. This had never happened before.

Scott quickly put his stuff back in to his dresser, and sat down on the bed to think this situation out. Was he really afraid of Xavier or not fitting in? Maybe he was more afraid that Xavier was on the level and trying to give him a second chance? Maybe second chances were more frightening because if you screwed it up you had no one but yourself to blame?

Scott figured he had two choices. He could stay and try to make this chance work for him, or he could leave and keep running for the rest of his life. Scott was suddenly very tried of running. He had been running for a very long time, and he had a horrible feeling if he started again now he would never be able to stop. He didn't want to live that way any more. He wanted to give this a chance, maybe even put down some roots so he could get an education. Maybe he could even go to college someday, meet a nice girl and start a family of his own. Suddenly the possibilities of a respectable future were glaring in front of him and Scott decided he was going to take it.

He quickly changed in to pajamas, but he was not going to sleep in that bed. It was still too soft. Scott took his pillow and a couple of blankets and settled in to them on the floor. He decided he was going to tackle that rose bed in the morning. If he was going to be staying here the next couple of years, he was going to make the best of it, and he was going try to make the place feel a little more like home. He was going to start with that rose bed and then see what he could do with the rest of the place. Scott drifted to sleep with the thoughts of saving those five roses in mind. 

It took a few weeks for Charles Xavier to notice the changes starting to take place. Admittedly he had been very busy. He was starting to find out that running a school and teaching classes were two very different animals. There was paperwork that needed filing, licenses to get not to mention setting up the process to report Scott's progress to the proper authorities. He had been so swamped he had hardly had a chance to see Scott at all, except when Scott had hunted him down and asked if he could rearrange the library. Xavier had been on the phone to an agency in upper New York and had just nodded to him and said to go right ahead. That had been the last he had seen of Scott. He had just been so wrapped up in just trying to get the schools doors open and trying not to miss Amelia that he had not noticed anything else happening.

That was until he walked in to the library to find a book. The room had been totally rearranged. Scott must have gotten his housekeeper's help. The heavy drapes that had covered the windows had been taken down and replaced with lighter ones that let more light in. The furniture had been rearranged in to a less formal layout. There was a colorful throw over the couch, and some colorful pillows thrown around. The room now reminded you of a room that you wouldn't mind spending an afternoon in with friends or curling up in with a good book on a cold winter's night all by yourself. The room just had warmth that was missing before. It didn't feel like a school library but a library you would find in a home.

"Home." What an odd thought. This mansion had never really been a home to him before. The last time he actually had thought of the place as home was before his father had died and that had been a very long time ago. Most times, Xavier had thought of the mansion as a place he could stay when he was in town or in terms of his lab in the underground levels. Suddenly, he really liked the change.

Coming out of the library is when he started noticing the other smaller changes. The drapes were wide open to let the sunlight in several different rooms, and there was a book lying on the coffee table. Scott certainly seems to like to read. Reminding Charles that he had neglected to test Scott to see what reading level he was on, another thing that he needed to do. When he went over to the coffee to pick up the book it was called "Greek Legends," and there was a bookmark in the middle of it. That made Charles feel a little better, Scott may not be as far behind as Charles feared he might be.

The book wasn't from his library; it must be one of Scott's. Frankly Xavier didn't think Scott had brought anything with him but he had hardly talked to the boy since he arrived, much less seen what he might have brought with him. The book showed signs of wear of being flipped through lots of times. When Xavier flipped open the book, it was marked at the story of the Cyclops. Not one of Xavier's favorite legends, he had always favored Jason himself but apparently it was one of Scott's. What it said about Scott that one of his favorite legends was about a vicious, spiteful, one-eyed, man-eating monster Xavier didn't know. Xavier just shut the book and went in search of Scott. It was time the two of them got to know each other a little better. He found Scott by his Grandmother's old rose bed. The boy was kneeling by the bed, reading a book called "Caring for Roses."

"You know, when my Grandmother was alive, there was roses blooming all summer long. It was probably the most beautiful rose garden in the state," Xavier stated softly. Scott responded to his words by jumping a foot straight up.

"Sir, I didn't hear you coming." Scott simply stated. _He looks like he's ready to bolt_ , Xavier thought. 

"I could tell. I came to return this, and tell you I liked what you did with the library." Xavier stated, holding Scott's book out to him. "Leaving it in the library may not be all that wise. I tend to stuff books back on the shelves without looking at whom the book belongs to. When I get distracted, I tend not to look. I see you're trying to save what is left of the roses. I tried once; I'm afraid I was responsible for more of their demises than the weather was. I did not apparently inherit my Grandmother's green thumb. I tend to kill any green plant around me I'm afraid." Scott was starting to relax a bit and reached out to take the book. 

"I'll keep that in mind, Sir. As for the roses, I think I may keep them alive long enough for someone else to take over. I'm not having much luck at making them grow. Maybe someday, you'll get a student that has a way with plants and can make them bloom. I'm glad you passed my test Sir."

Xavier just blinked at him and asked, "What kind of test are you talking about Scott?"

"I wanted to see if you would give me my book back. So I left it out in plain view. If you gave it back to me, I was going to try your X-Man thing. If you didn't I would stay here as long as I needed to, and then I was leaving and never coming back." Xavier just stared at him for a moment.

"That's a very interesting test to judge someone by Scott, may I ask what the test is all about?"

"Knowledge is power Sir. I just wanted to see if you would deny it to someone else."

"Scott you do realize I'm a teacher. Giving knowledge is what I do," Xavier stated. Scott just nodded at him slowly.

"But it was my knowledge. Just because you're a teacher doesn't mean you give knowledge. Knowledge is presenting the facts and allowing your student to judge for themselves. You didn't pick that book out for me, and it wasn't ideas you wanted or expected me to read. My book, my knowledge, my power — there are lots of ways for someone to control another person, without using fist or telepathy; denying someone the right to question, to look for answers, and make up their own minds is one way. I wanted to see if you would use that one. I resent it when someone tells me what I should think. Jack always tried that and I swore to myself that it was never going to happen again. I was just making sure you were on the level and weren't using me for your own personal mutant army. That's all." Xavier was silent for a moment, taking that all in. 

"So by giving you your book back I passed your final test?" Scott just nodded at him. "Maybe, Scott, we have quite a bit to learn from each other. You just certainly gave me a lot to think about just now. Scott, may I ask you one question?" Scott gave him a thoughtful look and just nodded at him. "Why the Cyclops?" Scott just gave him a thoughtful look.

"Well most people just see the hateful, spiteful, man-eating monster Sir. The Cyclops was hunted by man that wanted to see him dead. He and his people were betrayed by Zeus; even his own father, the god of the sea, abandoned him. He saw his fellow Titan, Prometheus, bond to a rock, and the Cyclops himself was exiled to an inland with only sheep for company, because neither he or Prometheus would tell Zeus who would be the gods' downfall. Zeus would have freed him from his exile, if he had told Zeus what he wanted to know. The Cyclops never did because that would mean sentencing his people to Zeus' reign forever. He never lost his perspective and certainty that Titans were going to win in the end. He was just a little more hateful and a little less noble than Prometheus and liked to rub it in to Zeus that Zeus would never brake him. I don't think many people take the time to think about him in those terms. In his own hateful, spiteful way, the Cyclops was saving his people. Sometimes you have to look beyond the surface at someone's motives and not just there actions." Xavier just blinked, eyeing this boy in a very new light and consider everything the boy just said.

"Now I'm sure that there is a lot we can teach each other Scott. I had never quite considered the story that way before, but you're right; Cyclops was saving his people. I was thinking perhaps that we could go out for diner together tonight. Maybe we can get to know each other a little better and you can tell me more about the Cyclops and we can discuss new beginnings and second chances, what do you think?"

Scott just nodded at him. "I think I would like that, Sir."


	2. Bridesmaid Dresses, Slime, and Other Horrible Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Greys come to visit the school to see if they want to send their daughter there. Exploding basements, sentient slime, and a rude juvenile delinquent give them second thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original Author's Notes:**  
>  This story takes place during the very early years. All of the original X-men are still students and Jean has only been part of the school for a couple of weeks. Enjoy.

"Elaine, I don't think there's anyone here," John Grey announced to his wife, who was leaning on the doorbell of Charles Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters. Elaine glared at her husband. 

"Charles has been after us to come tour the school for a while now. I'm not sending Jean to this place until I meet the other students. I want to meet the boy with the juvenile record before I decide if we will be sending Jean here. If Charles has a problem with that, he can stuff it where the sun can't reach." John Grey sighed and rolled his eyes. 

"Yes, dear. I trust Charles when he says that it would be in Jean's best interest to send her here." Elaine leaned on the doorbell again. 

"That makes one of us, John."

"Mom," their daughter, Sarah, whined. "Couldn't this wait another day? I'd really like to get this dress home." Elaine set her jaw.

"Don't start, Sarah. I don't care if we have to wait here all day. We are doing this." She leaned on the doorbell again. Suddenly the front door flew open. A teenaged boy of about thirteen, looking as if he'd just rolled out of bed, stood there. 

"What?" he growled out. Elaine was taken aback for a moment; the boy had blue, spiked hair. He glared at them again and asked, "Is there something I can help you with?" John cleared his throat. 

"We're here to see Professor Charles Xavier."

Frowning, the boy said, "He's not here. If you had bothered to make an appointment, you would know he got called out to D.C. last night on urgent business. You wouldn't have ended up pulling me out of bed. The professor isn't going to be back until this afternoon sometime." Elaine glared back at him. 

"We have a standing invitation to come tour the school and meet the students." The boy blinked for a moment, appearing to process her statement. 

"You're the Greys?" All three of them nodded. "Oh, crap," he grumbled. "Professor Xavier is not going to be happy about this." A big, forced smile suddenly appeared on his face. "Hi, I'm Bobby Drake. It appears I'm going to be your tour guide this morning. Come in and have a seat." Bobby showed them to a couch in the living room, then vanished in the direction of the kitchen for a moment, and reappeared with a Mountain Dew can and a glass. 

"Is there anything I can get you?" The three of them shook their heads. Bobby smiled and nodded. "Okay, first off, you do realize that this school is specially designed to teach a very small, gifted percent of the population?" Elaine rolled her eyes. 

"Let's can the small talk, Mr. Drake. My daughter's a mutant and that's why we're considering sending her to this school."

Bobby broke into a wide smile. "Cool -- you know. That means I don't have to be discreet." Suddenly a bunch of ice cubes appeared in the glass he was holding. "I hate to drink Dew warm and we were out of ice cubes." He poured the soda over the newly formed ice cubes. Sarah gawked at him. 

"Is that what you can do? Freeze stuff?" Bobby smiled at her. 

"Essentially. I pull moisture from the air and make ice. And just for the record, blue is not my natural hair color. I got the blue hair when Hank McCoy put something in my conditioner. It isn't washing out and I have every intension of making him suffer for it." Suddenly, an explosion rocked the basement of the house. "Speaking of our resident mad scientist --" Just then, a blackened Hank McCoy -- his eyebrows singed off -- ran up the basement stairs. 

"Where's the fire extinguisher?" were the first words out of his mouth.

"Electrical or chemical?" Bobby asked.

"I think it would be prudent if I grabbed both at this moment."

"Behind the door in the kitchen, where Slim hung them. We have company. These are the Greys." Hank nodded to Greys. 

"It was very nice to meet you. I would love to converse, but I think it would be best for me to contain the blaze downstairs first. Who would have thought that bread mold was that combustible? Now, if you'll excuse me." Hank dashed off to grab the two fire extinguishers, and then bolted back down the basement stairs. Bobby smiled at them. 

"You'll get to meet Hank later. He's a little busy at the moment." Elaine smiled back at him nervously and exchanged a look with her husband that said 'what type of nut house is this?'

"Why don't you wait here?" Bobby said. "I'll get dressed and show you around the grounds. That should take up most of the morning. By the time I'm done with the tour, the Professor should be back -- and Hank should have the fire out." He added, "I hope," under his breath. Elaine forced herself to return his smile. 

"That sounds like a wonderful plan, Mr. Drake. Is there anywhere we can hang our coats and Sarah can hang Jean's bridesmaid dress?"

"Sure. I'll hang your coats in the closet and the dress in the other room so it won't get wrinkled."

* * *

As Bobby showed them around, Elaine had to admit to herself that Charles' school had excellent facilities. In fact, Elaine didn't think they could do better sending Jean anywhere else. 

"Here's the girls' dorms. As you can see, the girls have one side of the house and the guys have the other," Bobby explained as he continued the tour.

"Will Charles be adding any other female students?" John asked. "It appears he has the facilities in place for more than just Jean." Bobby considered that question for a moment. 

"I honestly can't answer that. I think if he finds one, the professor would have no problem adding another female student to the school's ranks. Mutants are very rare, and the Alpha-level mutants this school is equipped to train are even rarer. The four of us are all the professor found while searching the East Coast and the interior of the country. Regardless of what the media says about the 'mutant threat,' there really aren't that many of us. Here, let me show you our classrooms." 

When they entered the classroom, Elaine was once again impressed. Charles had spared no expense when he designed these. Something written on the board caught Elaine's eye. It said, "Thought for the day," and underneath it in Charles' distinctive handwriting was "Compromise is the oil of all well-working teams." One the other side of the board, written in a very precise engineer-like script, was "Counter-to-thought of the day," and underneath that, "Rome did not build a mighty empire by compromising. They did it by killing all who opposed them." Bobby smiled nervously.

"The professor hasn't been able to instill in Slim the joys of compromise. This little argument between the two of them has been going on for a few weeks now." Bobby rolled his eyes. "The two of them ran out of quotes a few days ago. Now they're getting petty."

"Where is 'Slim' now?" Sarah asked. Elaine groaned inwardly as Bobby narrowed his eyes. Sarah needed some lessons in subtlety, because Bobby saw right through that question. 

"He's out with his parole officer today. He'll be in around dark," Bobby answered, smiling. 

"We can't wait to meet him. Charles has said so much about him," Sarah added, trying to cover her mistake.

"I bet," Bobby replied coldly. Right then a voice came roaring through the house. 

"Bobby! I am going to kill you!" Bobby smiled gleefully at them. 

"I think you're about to meet Warren." Right then a very handsome teen came stalking into the classroom. In fact, Elaine thought, handsome didn't even touch him -- breathtaking was more like it. He stalked right up to Bobby and began yelling.

"I am going to kill you for this one. You went into my address book and changed all the names of my dates. I was calling my date by the wrong name all through lunch."

"Well, you should stick to one bimbo at a time and not try to juggle one for every day of the week," Bobby replied snidely. Warren leapt at him and Bobby ducked behind the teacher's desk.

"I got slapped thanks to you." Bobby shrugged in response. 

"It wasn't the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last." Warren growled and dove after him again, and Bobby ducked behind Elaine, muttering, "Protect me." Warren jumped for him again. 

"Hiding behind someone's mother isn't going to save you, you ... you little weasel!"

"That's using your expensive prep-school vocabulary!" Bobby fired back gleefully.

"I would use the vocabulary I picked up at prep-school," Warren growled as he went for Bobby again. "But there are ladies present. If there weren't, I'd give you a vocabulary lesson you'd never forget. All while I kicked the crud out of you." Right then Hank came running in wearing his goofy-looking chemistry goggles.

"Oh good, I found you two. I need your help locating something." Hank blinked for a moment, then addressed Warren. "Can I ask why you're trying to kill Bobby?" Warren glared at him.

"I got slapped." Hank shrugged. 

"So? Back to my original question."

"He doesn't keep track of their names," Bobby said gleefully from behind Elaine's back. "You owe me twenty bucks." Warren glared at Hank, and Hank smiled back sweetly. 

"I don't know why Warren's trying to kill me for switching a few names," Bobby grumbled. "It's not like I was the one who cut up his favorite blue silk shirt to use as a mold filter." Warren glared at Hank, who was now smiling nervously. 

"Sacrifices must be made to further science sometimes," Hank offered.

"You cut up my favorite shirt?"

"Consider it revenge for spending two hours in the bathroom every morning."

"I haven't done that since you took the hinges off the door, and when I unlocked it, it fell in and almost squashed me." 

"Blah, Blah, sacrifices must be made in the name of science. It's not like I was going to cut up my favorite shirt for my mold filter," Hank added, trying to keep a straight face. Warren set his jaw.

"Why did you crawl out of the basement Hank? Don't you have Frankenstein to assemble?" Hank shot Warren a mock-hurt look. 

"Bring a few body parts home from class, and suddenly I'm Dr. Frankenstein."

"You laid eyeballs next to me on my pillow while I was sleeping. I woke up looking into a human eye," Warren replied. Hank started laughing. 

"And you should have seen the expression on your face. Bobby did a wonderful job catching it all on film."

"You should have done what Scott did and bounced them off his head," Bobby tossed in. "Boy, do those suckers bounce." Looking in the Greys' direction, Bobby added, "Warren and Hank are roommates." Like that explained everything. Warren took a deep breath. 

"What do you want, Hank?"

"I came up to warn everyone that they should close their closet doors," Hank said sheepishly. "It appears that when the mold combusted, 'it' got away again." Warren looked at him for a moment.

"I thought you had it in a glass cage that it couldn't eat through?"

"It got away again?" Bobby whined. "Slim is going to kill you. Do you have any idea what it did to his closet the last time it got out?" Hank shrugged.

"I already checked Scott's and my closets. It's not there. I need help trying to locate it."

"Wonderful," Warren said, exasperated.

"Great," Bobby grumbled. "You need me to climb up in the attic and check and see if it's in the insulation again, don't you?" Hank only nodded. Bobby groaned in response.

"Henry! There is black smoke bellowing out of the basement." Charles Xavier's voice roared through the house.

"The Professor's home," Bobby chirped.

"Don't worry Sir," Hank yelled back. "The fire is out. I'm just airing the lab out."

"We're up in the classroom Sir," Warren added.

"The Greys are with us," Bobby tacked on as an afterthought. A few moments later, Charles Xavier came wheeling into the classroom.

"Elaine, John, it's very nice to see you both. I hope Robert was giving a enjoyable tour?" Elaine smiled back, a little wanly.

"It's been ... insightful ... all right." Xavier turned to glare at Bobby, who smiled nervously. 

"We would love to talk, sir," Hank butted in. "But the three of us really need to go locate something." Xavier raised an eyebrow at that remark, much to Hank's discomfort. Bobby cleared his throat. 

"The Greys are here to tour the school. Since you're here, you can give them a more in-depth look at the academic side of the school, sir. May I be dismissed?" Xavier pegged the three of them with a look, but they were all sporting innocent expressions.

"Dismissed," Xavier finally growled. "I expect everyone to make an appearance at dinner and no one had better be late. No excuses."

"Yes, sir!" And the trio bolted out of the room. Xavier smiled then at the Greys.

"Why don't we go down to my office, and I'll try to undo the first impression my students gave you. We can also go through Jean's proposed lesson plans, and I can find out what you think. By the time we're finished, Scott should be home and I can introduce all of you to him."

* * *

The slamming of the front door heralded Scott's arrival home. 

"Oh come on, Scott. Admit it, you had fun today," urged Carol, his short, perky, blonde, blue-eyed, parole officer.

"Oh, yes," Scott retorted in a dry monotone. "I had a blast. I got stuck with a bunch of musty-smelling Dungeons and Dragons freaks, or better yet, those vampire-loving goth freaks. The whole collective lot have fewer social skills than I do. They climb out of their crypts once a year to make idiots of themselves in public at our annual Renaissance fair. A bunch of three-hundred-pound gamers, running around in tights, and getting drunk on mead is a sight I'm hoping senility will erase from my memory one day."

"That's what I love about you, Scott; you always see the bight side in every situation," Carol said, bestowing a bright, warm smile on the Greys and Xavier as she and Scott walked into the office. "Looks like you have company, Scott. Hey Charles." Elaine noticed that Carol was wearing a long flowing dress that looked as if it had come straight out of a fairy tale, along with a long, blonde wig and one of those pointed hats. Scott was wearing a brightly colored jester's costume in shades of red and green.

"What?" Scott suddenly snarled at John when he caught John studying him. "Haven't you ever seen a dork in a jester's costume before?"

"Scott!" Xavier growled. Carol smiled at the Greys.

"We were working at the Renaissance Fair the entire day. All the benefits go towards the new Children's Hospital's Cancer Wing. Scott was our jester today and entertained all the little kids. He did a great job. All the kids loved him and want him to come back next week. He had a really good day." Scott snorted and turned to Xavier.

"I insulted our nun. I made the Town Crier cry when the Crier got fresh with me and then I beat up the Pope. Thought you would like to know." Carol grinned.

"For Scott, that's a good day."

"Was it necessary to make the poor girl cry?" Sarah blurted out. Scott turned and studied Sarah coldly for a moment, then sneered.

"Who said the Crier was a she?" Turning to Xavier, he added, "Where did you find these people?" Xavier took a deep breath, and his next words came out more in the form of a growl.

"Scott, I'd like you to meet the Greys. They are touring the school before deciding whether they want to send their daughter here."

"And to check out the resident juvenile offender no doubt," Scott said dryly. 

"Scott!" Xavier admonished. Scott shot the Greys a completely baffled look. 

"Why would anyone send their daughter here? Knowing she would be the only girl among four teenage guys? Are they that desperate to get rid of her?"

"Scott!"

"What?" Scott countered. "It's a logical question." Xavier set his jaw. 

"Why don't you go change and get ready for dinner. We will be eating in about half an hour."

"Yes, sir," Scott responded dryly, then headed up the stairs to his room. Xavier turned to Carol. 

"You are staying for dinner?" he asked, though his tone brooked no argument. "I'll have the cook set an extra place for you."

"I just love when you ask so politely, Charles," the social worker replied. "Of course, I'll stay and eat with you. I can tell already dinner is going to be a very interesting affair."

* * *

Scott had just climbed out of the shower when Bobby came running into their dorm room.

"Scott! Great, you're home! We have a problem." 

"What now? Hank not manage to put a chemical fire out again? The fire extinguisher is behind the door in the kitchen." Bobby shook his head negatively. 

"That's not the problem. It got away again." That earned Bobby "the look."

"How did it get away? Do you realize what happed the last time it got way?"

"Answering in reverse order. Last time it got away, it wrecked half the clothes in your closet. As for how it got away this time..." Bobby shrugged. "I guess when Hank's mold experiment exploded, the glass cage got knocked over and it oozed away." Scott rubbed his head.

"Have you managed to locate any sign of it at all?"

"Weve found no trace of it yet," Bobby said, shaking his head. "And we've checked the oblivious places." 

At that moment, the Professor's mental voice shouted, "Dinner." Bobby and Scott both flinched.

"Well," Bobby grumbled, "I think our search will have to wait until after dinner. The master has summoned."

"Skip dinner. We need to locate it before we do anything." Bobby shrugged. 

"We can't. Professor Xavier gave us all orders not to be late for dinner, or we were going to be in big trouble." Hank McCoy suddenly appeared in the doorway. 

Looking at Bobby, he asked, "Did you inform him of our situation?" Bobby smirked. 

"Yes. I informed him of our situation. What do you think, Slim?"

"I should blast you through the nearest wall," Scott snarled at Hank. "You swore it would never get away again."

"Dinner," the Professor's mental voice once again echoed through their heads. 

"Will the three of you hurry up?" Warren's voice carried ahead of him before he finally appeared in the doorway. "The next one is going to give us all a horrible headache, and the professor will start adding Danger Room hours for every minute we're late." Scott took a deep breath. 

"Everyone keep your eyes pealed during dinner. Hopefully, it will make an appearance. If it doesn't, we hurry and eat, make our excuses, get out of there fast, and continue the search." The other three boys nodded at Scott.

"Sounds like a plan, Slim," Warren replied.

_**Dinner!** _

All four of them grabbed their heads at that mental shout, and Scott shouted back (aloud), "Coming!" Hank was rubbing his head. 

"It would be prudent for us to get going. The Professor is becoming agitated."

"Agreed," Scott said. "Remember to keep your eyes open. We don't want it getting out of the mansion."

"What is that hideous thing?" Scott asked as he walked into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks. All he could do was gawk in horror.

"That is a bridesmaid dress," Bobby informed him. 

"What color is it?" Scott asked, a perplexed expression on his face.

"Key-lime green," Warren informed him. "With white trim."

"Anyone who wears it will resemble a key-lime pie," Bobby added. Scott blinked. 

"You're kidding, right?" Hank was studying the dress and flinching. 

"We only wish."

"Someone please explain this to me," Scott asked in a baffled tone. "I know I don't understand the wedding thing but why would anyone want to place her sister or best friend in a dress designed for discomfort and constructed out of only man-made, oil-based materials. So they can resemble a key lime pie and be humiliated in front of the bride's entire group of family and friends?"

"You forgot that most times, the bridesmaid actually has to buy the dress," Bobby chipped in. "And being a bridesmaid is considered a great honor."

"Don't forget the all the pictures of the wedding party," Hank stated matter-of-factly. "That way the bridesmaid's humiliation is immortalized forever." 

"I think it's a subtle form of revenge," Warren added thoughtfully. "It's a way for a woman to get back at her best friend or sister for all the wrongs she might have done to her in the past." Scott studied the dress thoughtfully for a moment. 

"Women are the more vicious of the species. Men don't do this to each other. We take it out using violence instead. Much simpler." 

"What are you doing to my sister's bridesmaid dress?" Sarah Grey demanded from the doorway.

"Getting hints on new forms of torture," Scott replied dryly. "You're going to put your sister in that dress? You must really hate her." Sarah set her jaw.

"My sister is a redhead."

"Oh," Scott responded thoughtfully. "She's the pretty one and you're punishing her for it." Sarah opened her mouth to respond to that comment just as Professor Xavier's voice roared into the room. 

"Dinner! Now!"

Scott ate his dinner slowly, wondering where the Sentinels were when you really needed them. The Greys were studying him with an expression that most people reserved for rather distasteful insects. He always loved being discussed as if he wasn't even there. 

"Scott has made remarkable progress since he has joined my school," the professor droned to the Greys.

"I will be good. I will be good," the little voice in the back of Scott's head chanted. 'I will be polite. I will be polite. No matter how much the professor is managing to piss me off.'

"We have made huge leaps," the professor tacked on then for good measure and Scott thought, "Screw being good." He wasn't a lab rat on display. As for being polite, he and politeness weren't on speaking terms anyway.

"-- that my recovery is going nowhere fast," Scott suddenly blurted out. Elaine Grey's ice tea came out her nose. Xavier glared at him, and then smiled at the Greys.

"Scott has made huge leaps socially since he joined the school."

Smiling sweetly, Scott retorted, "Without television, I have no friends and I like it that way. I accept the fact that I must control all the inferior morons around me. I also take pride in the fact that I'm alienated from myself, society, and the universe." Then in a very dry, patronizing tone, he added, "But I don't patronize and disrespect authority figures nearly as much as I use to. Right Professor?" More ice tea came out of Elaine Grey's nose. The professor set his jaw and glared at him. Scott grinned right back. John Grey cleared his throat. 

"So Scott, I understand that Carol's your parole officer."

"Yes," Scott replied, turning to look at his parole officer. She had lost her wig and pointy hat but the long dress remained. With her blonde hair, big, blue eyes, and her annoyingly perky attitude, Carol tended to remind Scott of an elf. 

"The judge in my case decided to punish me for doing the right thing and that's why I have Carol," he continued. Carol broke into a huge smile. 

"He loves me," she informed the Greys. "He just won't admit it." She broke into an even wider smile, then asked, "So, kiddo. You never told me -- what did you think of my costume? I made it myself."

"It was not the costume with the pointy hat I pictured you in."

"I got it covered," Carol replied smugly, lifting up her leg so Scott could see her foot. On her foot was a red, sequined slipper. Scott almost smiled when he saw the slipper. 

"So you were on the lookout for rainstorms, tornadoes, and falling houses?" Carol winked at him as she put her leg back under the table. 

"I'll have you know, I'm a good witch. Though I could sure use one of those flying monkey slaves to do my paperwork." She turned to the Greys and said, "Scott was in charge of taking care of the kids today at the Renaissance Fair."

"Really?" Mr. Grey asked. "Did you learn anything at the fair?"

"Oh, yes," Scott replied sarcastically. "I want Hank to invent a time machine so I can send all those medieval-loving gamers and the history teachers who inspired them back to the Middle Ages. There's nothing quite like explaining to a four year old why mommy and daddy ditched them with a complete stranger so they could go run around like idiots and get drunk."

"Scott was great with the kids," Carol butted in. "Some of them didn't even want to go home with their parents because they wanted to stay with Scott." He snorted. 

"Of course they didn't want to go home with their parents. Their parents were dressed up as freaks. They had also been running around hitting each other with sticks in front of the kids all day. Oh, pardon me, the adults were 'fencing with staffs.' I wouldn't want to go home with them either, and people have the gall to wonder why children today don't respect their parents."

Mr. Grey blinked at Scott for a moment. 

"Come now. There had to have been something at the fair you liked. The Middle Ages were a very romantic age in art and literature." Scott studied Mr. Grey for a moment. 

"You're a history teacher, aren't you?" he asked. "I don't know whether to give you my condolences because you have to deal with those freaks everyday, or blame people like you for what I saw today. As for the Middle Ages being romantic, what's so romantic about them anyway?" 

_Scott!_ he heard the professor snarl in his head. He ignored Xavier and continued on. 

"What's so romantic about open sewers, unwashed bodies, tetanus, staff infections, people hacking each other to death with swords, illiteracy, and people sleeping with their livestock? I bet you poisoned your daughters with fairy tales and that happily-ever-after crap, too."

"I'm afraid Scott's not much of a romantic," Carol chirped. "He is still great with kids. Kids seem to love him."

"You mean people let their kids near someone like Scott?" Sarah Grey blurted out. Elaine groaned into her hands. Bobby, who had been strangely quiet all through dinner, opened his mouth to say something when the Professor shot him a warning glance. Bobby wisely decided to stay quiet. 

The Professor glared at Scott and telepathically warned him, "Don't even think about responding." Scott hoped the professor caught the two-word thought he fired back at him.

Smiling sweetly at Sarah, Scott said, "Tell me, Ms. Grey, is it the mutant part that bother's you or the delinquent part?" he retorted coldly. "The mutant part I can't do anything about, any more than your sister can. As for the delinquent part, I'm doing my time and paying my debt to society." Sarah glared at him. 

"It's not the mutant part that bothers me, Mr. Summers." He glared right back at her. 

"I think you're lying. I think you have a big problem with the mutant part. I think you resent your sister for being a mutant because having a mutant in the family isn't suppose to happen to you. But cheer up!" Scott chirped in a fake, perky tone. "If society and our Government has their way, we're all going to get marched into gas chambers anyway and you won't have to worry about your mutant sister embarrassing you anymore." 

Turning to the Professor, he asked, "May I be excused? I've suddenly lost my appetite." 

Xavier nodded and spoke aloud for the Grey's benefit. "Of course." Telepathically, the professor added, "Go to your room right now. You and I are going to have a long talk later."

"Thank you, sir," Scott said, but at the same time, he shot a thought to the Professor: _I'll be waiting._ With that, Scott marched out of the dining room.

"Hey, Warren," Bobby suddenly blurted out, trying to break the tension in the dinning room. "Did I tell you that my Dad's mill is going out on strike?" Warren blinked at Bobby, confused for a moment. 

"No. Why would I care?" Bobby smirked at him. 

"Well, it appears that Worthington Mutual is one of the major stock owners for the mill's parent company. My dad wanted to see if I could pull some strings with you." Warren stiffened for a moment. 

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him we didn't touch upon those things at school and I couldn't pull strings," Bobby said, still smirking. "I did tell my dad I would do my part for the strike by tormenting you and trying to embarrass you in public." Warren blinked. 

"You do those things anyway."

"Yes, I know," Bobby said gleefully, rolling his eyes. "But now I have an excuse that it's a class-struggle thing when I try to get you slapped by your bimbo girl friends."

"It's nice to know the status quo around here isn't going to change," Hank mused. 

"You aren't listening," Bobby complained, exasperated. "I have an excuse to torment Warren now."

"Robert!" the Professor barked out. "You are not going to torment Warren." Xavier suddenly turned to the Greys. "John, Elaine, if you will excuse me for a moment, I need to go fetch something in my study. I'll be right back." With that, the Professor rolled out of the room.

"Oh, boy," Warren muttered in a low tone, so only Hank and Bobby could hear him. "Slim is going to chewed for this one." Hank nodded in agreement.

"Well," Bobby huffed aloud, more for the Greys' benefit than any other reason. "I know which side of the class struggle the Professor comes down on." Right then Bobby stiffened. Hank shot him a questioning look and Bobby indicated a corner of the dining room with his eyes. Hank and Warren both glanced towards the corner, and saw it. Bobby, Hank, and Warren all exchanged a look before directing their attention back to the corner.

* * *

Scott wasn't really surprised when the Professor's mental projection appeared in his room only a few minutes after he'd entered it. He felt rather than saw the Professor, though Xavier's reflection appeared in the window Scott had been leaning against to look out of. The cold, icy feeling that suddenly filled the room indicated the Professor's displeasure. 

"I hope you have a very good explanation for your behavior towards the Greys tonight," the projection demanded. "You were very rude." Scott watched his own reflection. 

"At least when I'm rude, people know it. I don't hang up the phone when a conversation bores me and later pretend the phone disconnected. At least I'm honest about it." Scott could feel the professor's eyes bore into his back. 

"Don't change the topic, Scott. We are talking about your behavior tonight. It was the most horrible behavior I've ever seen you display." He suddenly spun around and glared back at the projection that was standing in the middle of his room. 

"My behavior tonight! What about your behavior tonight! I am not a lab rat you can put on display for prospective recruits. I am not an object you can casually discuss like I'm not even there. I am not your personal pet project. I'm a human being, damn it! I'm not the poor little, delinquent, mutant runaway that your school has managed to turn around."

"It was not my intention to display you, Scott. I wanted to prove to the Greys --"

"I don't care what your damned intentions were!" Scott shouted back. "That's exactly what you did back there! If it ever happens again, I will petition both Carol and Judge Harris to get me the hell out of here! I won't be treated like an object!" The Professor was quiet for a long time. 

"Scott, I --"

"Don't even start," Scott said, his face assuming a bitter expression. "I don't know who I feel more sorry for, you, or the girl you're trying to get sent here. Her parents are giving you the runaround." Xavier studied Scott for a moment. 

"Explain?"

"Are you sure you want me to?" Scott sneered. "I'm already in trouble for being rude tonight."

Xavier nodded and his mental projection sat down on the bed, replying dryly, "Humor me." Scott took a deep breath. 

"I'm not saying the Greys aren't good people, but they are 'out of sight, out of mind' people. They're the type who'll send a large check to feed the starving kids in Africa but will cross the street to avoid a homeless teenager in their own back yard. They have been giving you the runaround about sending their daughter here for the last year because they have no intention of sending her here. If they did, they would have to admit she's not normal." Scott sported a bitter expression again and shook his head in amazement.

"What a family. The older sister is angry with her little sister for being a mutant. I bet Sarah is scared to death that her kids are going to end up mutants. Sarah considers being a mutant more of a disease and blames her younger sister for bringing it into the family. Mommy and Daddy want to pretend that if they ignore it long enough, their daughter being a mutant will go away. She'll go to college, marry a doctor, have 2.5 kids, and live that happily-ever-after crap." The projection sighed and rubbed its head. 

"I think you may be right. I have sensed some denial."

"I think that family is living in it. As long as their daughter's mutation isn't causing any problems, they want to sweep it under the rug and pretend it doesn't exist." Scott suddenly shot the professor's image a very serious, concerned look. "Meanwhile, you're running yourself ragged trying to tutor this girl every weekend, make trips down to D.C. trying to gather information on this new Sentinel mutant-hunting program, and teach us, here at the school. You can't keep this up, sir. If the Greys aren't willing to send their daughter here, you have to consider cutting her loose."

"Scott, I have never 'cut a student loose,' as you put, in my life," the professor snorted indignantly from the bed. "I refuse to start now."

Scott shook his head sadly. "Her parents might not give you any choice, sir."

"I know," Xavier sighed aloud and started fading away slowly.

"Oh, sir," Scott suddenly blurted out. "About the Sentinel program."

"The one you're not supposed to know anything about?" Xavier replied dryly, amused. "What about it?"

Scott cleared his throat and looked down at his feet nervously. "The lower right-hand drawer of your desk. I went and talked to Rat."

"Someone you're not allowed to have any contact with under your parole agreement," Xavier added, raising his eyebrow a little higher.

"So what if Rat's wanted for hacking and forgery?" Scott grumbled. "It's not like he ever killed anyone. Besides, he's my friend and he owed me a favor. Anyway, Rat hacked into the Pentagon's mainframe and managed to pull the original specs that Congress and the Pentagon approved for the project. It's not much, sir, but it might help. What I saw when I checked the blueprints was rather horrifying."

"I'll keep that in mind," the professor said quietly, and started fading out again. "And Scott, I've very sorry about what happened tonight -- and thank you." As the Professor faded completely from view, he offered Scott a final thought. "I still think you should seriously consider giving the Greys an apology."

* * *

Carol went looking and found Scott in the kitchen about ten minutes after Charles and the Greys had left the table. All of them had gone into Charles' study to discuss something private. Scott was sitting on the kitchen counter, Indian style, drinking a large glass of lemonade and munching on a green apple. The kid did seem to have a thing for tart. She leaned against the kitchen door and announced her presence. 

"Hey." Scott looked in her direction for a moment, and then looked down at the floor.

"Hey." She smirked. 

"I thought you would like to know that Bobby's climbing through the air ducts after something that they guys are referring to as 'It.' Something about it being in the corner one minute and it getting away. You want to tell me what's bothering you, Scott? You've have been snappish and bad tempered all day. Then you made a marvelously rude first impression on the Greys." Scott snorted indignantly.

"Like I care what a bunch of whining suburbanites think of me," he said, rubbing his head as if it really ached, and sighed. "I know, I know. I owe them an apology. I was mad at the professor and took it out on them. I'm sitting out here trying to find the guts to go apologize." Carol sighed to herself; she'd been watching Scott rub his head all day as if it were aching, and she had a pretty good idea what was making him snappish.

"I hate being put on display," he said. She raised an eyebrow at that comment.

"I figured. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think Charles meant it that way. He's proud of you and he just wanted to brag a bit." Scott scowled at her.

"Maybe. It didn't feel that way, though. It felt like he was putting me on display. It felt like he's so determined to get this new student down here that my feelings didn't matter to him. If it took putting me on display to get her, he'd do it. Pissed me off." Scott sighed and a strange look crossed his face for a moment. "Back at the orphanage, they would line us up for foster parents to inspect. It was embarrassing and humiliating. Later, with Jack..." Scott stopped right there, as if he couldn't finish the thought. Carol sat down and motioned for Scott to have a seat.

"Have you told Charles about this?" Scott sighed as he sat down. 

"No. The Professor has been so fixated on this Grey girl, we haven't been able to talk to him about anything else. Have you ever tried to talk to that man when he has his mind settled on something?" She shook her head negatively. 

"No, but I have a tire iron in my trunk. We could give it a shot at making him listen." Scott smirked at her.

"Don't kid. It might just come down to that." He suddenly got a very serious look on his face. "Can I ask you something?" Carol gave him her brightest smile.

"Sure, kiddo. That's what I get paid for."

"How exactly do you go about apologizing to someone? I'm new at this." Carol chuckled softly to herself.

"Try doing it honestly and sincerely. Just don't do it in your usual blunt 'tie the message to a brick and bounce it off their heads' fashion.'"

"Scott!" Warren said breathlessly as he ran into the kitchen. "I need to talk to you." 

"What did you do?" asked Scott, eyeing him suspiciously for a moment. Warren turned to Carol.

"Hi," he said and Carol nodded at him. Then Warren turned to Scott again and gave him an exasperated look. 

"Why do you always assume I had something to do with what's going on? Hank and Bobby managed to get themselves into this mess all by themselves." Scott eyed him again.

"What did you do?"

"Well," Warren started nonchalantly. "Hank managed to get Bobby into a bit of a fix."

"While you sat on the sidelines and urged the two of them on, no doubt." Warren gave Scott an exasperated look.

"Of course -- but I don't think that counts as 'doing' anything. Anyway, Hank managed to get Bobby stuck in the air duct. Neither Hank nor I can squeeze in there to help him out." Scott took a deep breath, feeling a migraine coming on. 

"Why was Bobby in there to begin with?" Warren shrugged. 

"It got away when Hank, Bobby, and I tried to pounce on it in the dining room. Bobby was squeezing in the air duct to see if it could have oozed in there." Scott counted to ten.

"I see." 

"Anyway, Hank told me to go find you and the Crisco," Warren continued, a confused expression on his face. "Who or what is Crisco and where do I find it?"

"The Crisco is in the kitchen Warren. It's cooking grease," Scott replied dryly. "May I ask what Hank wants with it?" Warren looked around the kitchen as if viewing an alien landscape.

"I'm afraid you're still losing me here, Slim. Why does someone want to cook with grease?" Scott shook his head and rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

"Never mind. What does Hank want with it?" Warren shrugged. 

"Something about a fair, greasing Bobby up like a pig, and sliding him right out of there. I blocked Hank out at about that point. The conversation was getting too farm-involved for me." Scott tossed back the last of his lemonade and rubbed his aching head. 

"I'll be right there." Warren nodded and took off in the direction of the dining room. Carol's eyes followed Warren with an amused look. 

"Well, it looks like you have your work cut out for you," she said. Scott nodded and rubbed his head again. 

"You go see if you can get Bobby out. I'm going to see if Charles is done speaking with the Greys." Carol headed out of the kitchen, but stopped for a moment. 

"Oh Scott," she called. He froze in the middle of getting up.

"Yeah?" Carol shot a smirk over her shoulder.

"Bring the Crisco with you. You're going to need it."

* * *

"So he's stuck here?" Warren asked, tapping a spot on the wall. 

"Apparently, according to my stud detector," Hank said, studying a machine he held up against the wall. "He's wedged in there tight, too. I think were going to have to grease him up good or take the wall and the duct down."

"You two had better be coming up with a plan to get me out of here, damn it!" Bobby's voice carried through the wall.

"Well," Warren declared. "At least we know he has air."

"Indeed. Really Robert, such language," Hank admonished playfully. "There is no need to start pulling out the four-letter words."

"My father was a Marine. If you two don't get me out of here soon, I'll teach you some four letter words!"

"Temper, temper." Hank said gleefully. "We're working on it." Warren walked over to the wall and removed a painting that was hanging there and put it on the other side of the room. He smirked at Hank. 

"If I were a better person than my spoiled, corrupt, old-money, brat-prince self, I would never take advantage of this situation. But I'm not a better person, and I must do my part for the upper class in the class struggle," said Warren, pulling a tennis ball out. 

"I'm not going to enjoy this. It's all for the class struggle. Now where would his face be?" Warren asked aloud, throwing the ball up and down with one hand.

"By my calculations, somewhere in that location, " Hank said, pointing towards a spot on the wall. "You would have to throw that ball against the wall with quite a bit of force for Bobby actually to feel it. " Warren threw the tennis ball hard off the wall.

"I felt that!" Bobby shouted.

"Really?" Warren asked innocently as he caught the tennis ball. "Think of it as payback for the date you ruined, you little twerp."

"I'm surprised your date even noticed you were calling her the wrong name, considering she had the I.Q. of a carrot," Bobby snarled through the wall.

"That isn't a very nice thing to say about Marie -- or was it Nancy?" Warren turned to Hank. "What was her name again?" Hank shrugged in response. Warren threw the ball at the wall another time.

"Stop it!" Bobby shouted.

"If you bothered to scrub the heel marks off the roof of your car ..." Warren nailed the wall again. 

"Ouch, damn it! Okay, you mother ..."

"My sensitive upper class ears. Really Bobby, such language does show you're from the lower classes," Warren reprimanded cheerfully.

"Just wait until I get my hands on your personal planner, Bird boy," Bobby growled. Warren was aiming to throw the ball against the wall again when Scott walked in.

"Warren, stop tormenting Bobby!"

"Slim get me out!" Bobby shouted.

Scott sighed, looking at the wall. "Carol was right. I should have pulled out the Crisco."

* * *

"If I hear one Star Trek crack about Scottie climbing through the auxiliary tubes, someone will die," Scott snarled into his communicator as he slowly made his way through the air duct.

"Not one crack comes to my mind," Warren mused a little too innocently over the communicator. "Ahead warp two, Mr. Scott." 

"We know, Scottie. You're giving all you've got and you cannot take it no more," Hank McCoy chimed in and started snickering over the open line.

"They're going to be dead when I get out of here, Jim," Scott growled. "People wonder why I claim bitterness, sarcasm and apathy as my only friends." 

"I'm hurt, Scott," Warren deadpanned. "And the fact that you're following all the Star Trek cracks proves you need a girlfriend."

"Now why would I want a girlfriend?" Scott replied dryly. "You're the perfect vehicle to date vicariously and not worry about getting slapped."

"Oh, good one, Fearless." Then Scott could tell Hank was addressing Warren.

"I told you Scott had not forgiven you yet for that blind date."

"I did him a favor," Warren grumbled.

"By setting me up with Barbie the plastic wonder?" Scott asked, exasperated. "And stop calling me 'Fearless.'"

"That's not a very nice thing to say about Marie ...Tracey? Or was it Jodie?" Warren paused for a moment. "What was her name again?"

"How the hell should I know?" Scott growled into his communicator as he inched along. "She never shut up long enough for me to ask her."

"Changing the subject," Warren said, as Scott could hear the smirk in his tone. "Can you see Bobby's light yet?"

"No. You're sure he had a light?" he asked, inching a little further into the duct.

"Indeed. Robert says he has it on, too," Hank added from his end.

Scott crawled a little deeper into the duct. "I should be under your feet right now."

"That's what my scanners are indicating," Hank responded. "You have about another ten feet to go to reach Bobby." Scott froze then. It was there, right in front of him, and Scott made his way carefully down the length of the duct, then pounced. But he couldn't get a grip on it, and it quickly slid through his fingers, oozing into another duct. That's when Scott heard the distinct sound of the duct groaning under his weight.

"Oh no," he whispered under his breath as he tried to crawl further in. He wasn't going to make it to a supported area of the air duct. The duct under him groaned again.

* * *

All Hank and Warren heard over their communicators was the loud groaning of metal, 

"Son of a ...," Scott muttered then a louder groaning sound that was quickly followed by a large crash.

"Scott? Scott? Are you all right? Can you hear me?" Hank demanded over the over communications line. "Answer me!"

"I was just out-thought by a pool of snot with an attitude," came Scott's dazed reply over the communicator channel. "Gee, all I need to do now is go to our nearest grocery, pretend to try to buy booze, then hold up the place and leave my ID behind on the counter. I need to go play some more mind games with my court-appointed therapist. I'm losing my edge." Hank and Warren both breathed a sigh of relief. 

"It's nice you can see the bright side to all of this," Hank replied dryly. "What happened?"

"Apparently, it ate through the duct supports," Scott reported. "I'm down in the basement. I'm all right — just got knocked silly when the duct hit the floor."

"Well Fearless, any other bright ideas to get Bobby out of the wall?" Hank asked dryly. They both heard Scott sigh. 

"Go to the tool shed, get the hammer, a chisel, and a crowbar. It looks like we'll have to take part of the wall down to get him out. First we get Bobby out. Then that ball of slime is going down."

* * *

Charles Xavier was sitting in his office listening to John Grey give him one excuse after another as to why they were not going to send Jean to the school. Out-of-sight, out-of-mind people indeed. Apparently, Scott had been correct in his assessment. Charles shook his head. For someone who was not a telepath, Scott could be very perceptive. Hearing the same excuses over and over again, Charles was ignoring John and watching the clock behind him. The seconds, minutes, and hours were ticking away. Jean's seconds, minutes, and hours were ticking away. She was quickly running out of time. 

"We were very impressed by what we saw here, Charles -- if you remove the Summers boy." He set his jaw and glared at John. 

"Scott is going nowhere. Even if I did send him somewhere else, you would find another excuse to avoid sending Jean here, like you have continued to do for the last year. John, Elaine, allow me to be blunt."

"Let's," Elaine blurted out. She'd been strangely silent the whole evening.

"When you first approached me about taking on Jean's case, I did so on the condition that you would allow me to treat her as I saw fit and that you would not interfere. At the time, it included removing her from the hospital you had her placed in and relocating her here so I would be able to work with her. Here I was able to pull her out of her self-imposed catatonic state. I put temporary blockers in her brain that were designed to deteriorate over time, giving her a chance to get used to her telepathy so that her mind wouldn't be overwhelmed by it." 

"Charles we will always be grateful ..." John started. He put his hand up to stop John in the middle of that thought.

"I did not make her telepathy go away. I just put barriers up to allow the ability to develop like it should have if the accident with Annie never happened. Jean is starting to break those blockers down. She can already read surface thoughts, but right now other people's thoughts are not loud to her. That situation is going to change quickly. She'll begin to hear the voices again."

"You put blockers up before," John blurted out.

"I put the genie back in the bottle, John ... barely," Charles said with a sigh. "I won't be able to do it a second time; Jean is just too strong. When she starts to withdraw back into a catatonic state, I will not be able to stop her or pull her out of it this time."

"How long do we have?" Elaine asked quietly.

"I would optimistically give the blocks maybe six months," he responded in a serious tone. "The sooner I get her here, the sooner I can start working with her, the better I can prepare her for when those blocks come down."

"But you've been working with her at our home for years," Sarah suddenly blurted from where she was standing behind her parents.

"That arrangement worked while I was monitoring her condition and aiding her in handling her telekinetics," Charles responded quietly. "That situation no longer applies. Here, I have equipment and shielding to work with her. At your home, I don't. Jean is no longer my only student. The boys are reaching points in their studies where I will have to start to work with each of them on a one-to-one basis. I won't be able to continue teaching Jean on the weekends and do that too." Elaine gave him a very thoughtful look for a moment. 

"This has to do with Scott doesn't it?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. Yes, it does." Charles sighed, closing his eyes. "Scott needs stability. He needs me, and he needs me here. I can't continue to be gone all the time on the weekends."

"Jean needs you!" John blurted out angrily. Charles closed his eyes as he was assaulted by an image of Jean when he first met her -- a big mop of fiery-red hair and big green eyes that were too big for her face. He hoped someday Jean would forgive him for this decision. 

"Yes, Jean does. That's why I want to bring her here to the school," he said. "But whether I like it or not, I'm a court-appointed guardian now. That means I have to make some changes in my lifestyle. I thought after Scott had stabilized, I would be able to resume my life as it was before he came to live here. I was wrong. Parenting, I'm finding out, is a full time job. Tonight that was made evident to me. I should have known how Scott would feel about meeting you tonight. I didn't. That alone shows me I've been neglectful. If it comes down to me having to choose between Scott and Jean, I'm all Scott has."

"What exactly are you trying to say here, Charles?" John asked quietly. Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

"I will not be able to continue to treat Jean from your home. The only way I will continue to treat her is if she is sent here."

"And if we choose not to send Jean here?" Elaine asked very quietly.

"I'll hand over all her files and give you the names of some excellent doctors who will be able to resume her care," he answered quietly. "Jean will no longer be one of my patients." The room was deathly quiet for a long time. 

"I see," Elaine said softly. "Charles would you mind if we stepped outside to talk this over?"

"Of course," he replied. "You don't have to make the decision tonight. You can call me and tell me what course of action you have decided to take. It will require time for me to gather Jean's files anyway." Elaine gave him a very serious look as she got up to leave his office.

"Trust me, Charles," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. "John and I are making our decision tonight." Carol stuck her head into Charles' office a few moments after the Greys had walked out of it. 

"Hey? Is all the secret stuff over?" she asked him quietly. Charles was sitting with his back to her, looking out the window beside his desk. 

"Come in, Carol. What may I do for you? I assume you wish to discuss Scott," he asked, looking at her reflection in the window.

"I think I should be asking you that question," she said, studying him carefully. "You want to talk about it? As long as it has anything to do with Scott's case, I'm legally obligated not to say anything." He was very quiet for a few moments. 

"Do you remember your first case?" She studied him carefully from the doorway for a few moments, and then suddenly closed the office door and sat herself down in the chair in front of his desk. 

"Of course. The first case I ever tackled alone was Joanne. I flopped it up terribly, and it ended by locking myself in the bathroom and crying my eyes out for weeks." 

"Jean was my first case," Charles replied, spinning his chair around to look at her.

"I thought you had been in practice for a long time before Jean came?" Carol asked, confused.

"I was. Jean was my first case after I landed in this wretched thing," he said, motioning to the wheelchair. "I had quickly discovered that recovering from my injuries and living with them were two very different situations." Charles was quiet for a few moments. 

"Suddenly, the simplest things I had always taken for granted, like using the restrooms or entering shops with stairs were nearly impossible without help. Before the incident that landed me in this chair, I was a very independent person. I left home at an early age. Asking for help wasn't something I was comfortable with, yet suddenly, I was forced to ask for it for the simplest things. I felt useless, and spiraled down into a deep depression. I won't lie and say the thought that the world would be better off without me didn't cross my mind."

"And?" Carol asked, prompting him to continue. Charles took a deep breath.

"Elaine showed up at my door one night leaning on the gate buzzer. John, her husband, was an old friend of mine, and Elaine was certain I was the one person on Earth who could help her daughter. Jean had been diagnosed a schizophrenic, was catatonic, and was not responding to any medications. Her prognosis was not good. Elaine and John had already taken her to the best doctors and nothing had stopped Jean's decline and withdrawal. Apparently, Elaine had read some reports on my work. I had remarkable success with fairly similar cases in the past."

"So you agreed to take Jean's case?" Carol asked.

"Not quite. Not at first anyway. I was too wrapped up in my own self-pity and depression to think of helping another person. In fact, I threw her off my property numerous times, telling her point blank that I was no longer practicing." Carol raised an eyebrow at that remark. Charles chuckled humorlessly to himself. "I will have to give Elaine one thing -- she is a very determined woman. Amelia, my lover at the time, finally let her in, and Elaine was not going to take no for an nswer until I agreed I would go see Jean. When I did, I discovered it was not a mental illness, but in fact Jean's mutant gift that was doing this to her. I could help this little girl." Charles sighed.

"Elaine and John give me credit for saving Jean's life and sanity. It's the farthest thing from the truth. The night Elaine showed up at my door demanding my help, I was considering ending my life. Jean gave me something to live for." Carol considered that for a moment. 

"Well, now I understand why you were so determined to get her up here," she said.

"Yes," he said. "But I realize now that I stepped all over Scott's feelings to do it. I didn't mean to, but I did so anyway -- something I swore I would never do."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Carol asked very quietly.

"I told the Greys the arrangements that we made years ago are no longer acceptable because I have Scott to consider now. If they didn't send Jean here, I was going to have to release her from my care. The situation as it is now is fair to neither Scott nor Jean. I made a choice tonight that I never wanted to be forced to make. The horrible thing is there never was a choice."

"I'm sorry, Charles," she whispered to him.

He rubbed his hands over his face. "I never planned on being a parent. The closest I ever planned to get was teaching other people's children. Suddenly this scrawny, withdrawn fifteen-year-old boy was thrust into my life. It was only supposed to be a business arrangement. I needed a first student and Scott needed a place to say. I honestly thought I would be dealing with a court-appointed foster family, never thinking I'd have the boy handed to me. Judge Harris had other ideas when she appointed me Scott's legal guardian." Carol smiled at him for a moment. 

"You quickly found out you were in over your head and sinking fast?"

"Yes," he responded dryly. "Theory and practice are two very different animals. Being suddenly responsible for a badly under-fed, scrawny, fifteen-year-old who would wake me up screaming because of nightmares every night, and was prone to anxiety attacks, was not what I expected. Scott would jump at every little thing, huddle in corners when he thought he did something wrong, and trusted no one. It took me five months to pull him out of his shell, so he would let me in close enough to touch him." He suddenly turned and looked at Carol intently. "I never thanked you for showing up that night." She raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm assuming your talking about the night I found you pinning a screaming, bleeding Scott down? I was expecting something like that to happen. Abused kids break down when you take them out of an abusive environment. All that anger and rage needs to go somewhere. Their whole world shifts too fast for them to handle and they have to hit rock bottom before they can start climbing back up." Xavier sighed for a moment. 

"I'm trained to know those facts. Still, I wasn't emotionally prepared to walk in and find that Scott had put his fist through a sliding glass door and was sitting there watching a very deep wound bleed. Honestly, the rest of that evening is a haze. I remember Scott snapped and started screaming, suddenly lashing out. And I recall getting out of my chair and pinning him down. The rest of the evening is a blur." Carol shrugged. 

"I walked in to find you pinning him under your weight and Scott sobbing and screaming incoherently. Later, we found out Scott didn't know why he put his fist through the door -- he just did. You came into the room to investigate what was going on, and Scott said something in him snapped. At least he didn't put any thought into hurting himself," she said, then smiled. "At the time I didn't know who was going to pass out first -- you or Scott. That night was your first real breakthrough with him."

"It didn't feel like it at the time," Charles replied. Carol chuckled humorlessly.

"No, I guess it didn't. Scott has made remarkable progress since he came here. He's not the same kid you took in a year ago."

"No, he's not," the professor said, letting pride sink into his voice. "I don't know who I should worry about more -- the withdrawn boy he was, or the stubborn willful creature he's becoming. Suddenly, I'm finding myself teaching someone how to tie a tie straight, taking my life into my own hands teaching him to drive a car, and fighting over how loud the stereo will be played."

"Ah," Carol laughed aloud. "The music wars." Charles rolled his eyes in disgust.

"The boy has NO appreciation for Frank Sinatra. The closest I can get to him to Sinatra is Nancy. If it doesn't have a guitar or rock with some rhythm and blues, he doesn't want to hear it. At least he likes some jazz, so he wasn't completely raised by wolves. He snuck out after curfew to go catch Bonnie Raitt in concert when she was playing at a local club last week."

"And?" Carol asked calmly.

"I tracked him down and we stayed for the entire show. Ms. Raitt is actually very good. But I grounded him for sneaking out the next morning." Carol laughed at that remark and Charles snorted. "He's stubborn, he's prickly, and, half the time, he's blunt and sarcastic to the point of rudeness. He hates to lose, and if he can't win, he cheats. He has a chip on his shoulder that makes Mt. Everest look like a molehill. He plays mind games with his therapist. He picks fights with my neighbors as to whether they feed their dogs enough. The last time he got mad at me, he took a personal ad out and listed my private direct line as the contact number." Charles' expression suddenly softened and he looked at Carol. "Somehow that bad tempered, moody, prickly child has come to mean quite a lot to me. He's managed to worm his way into my heart, and I'm still trying to figure out how."

* * *

Elaine Grey smoked a cigarette outside the mansion, trying to calm herself down after a fight with her husband. That's when she saw Scott walk outside and head for the tool shed. He didn't look very pleased. Elaine put her cigarette out and ducked into the bushes so he wouldn't see her.

"What exactly does a chisel and a crowbar look like Scott?" he snarled under his breath. "Look up the term 'bird-brained' and you will see a big glossy picture of Warren. I know all he wants to do is stay and torment Bobby. I'm holding fast to the belief that I'm surrounded by morons." Scott suddenly looked up at the stars and sighed. 

"I'm sure someone is having a perfect life, somewhere far away from me." He walked over to the small, white tool shed, then reached out and gave the lock on the shed a good yank. 

"Damn it!" Elaine heard him mutter aloud. Scott suddenly took a deep breath. "We don't have time to find the key. I can do this -- just visualize a very narrow beam. The professor says I can do this. I can control the width of my beam without the visor to do it for me." Scott took another deep breath and lifted his glasses slowly. The red beam that came out not only destroyed the lock the boy was looking at, but also blew a hole right through the shed door and blew out the back of the shed itself. Elaine stared at the rather impressive display.

_Jean couldn't do anything like that, could she?_ Elaine's brain couldn't help but wonder what would happen in a few months, when Jean's blockers dissolved. _Would Jean be able to do something like that with just a thought?_

"Damn it!" she heard Scott exclaim. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn he was on the verge of tears. Elaine couldn't really tell because he was wearing the glasses. "Right, Professor," he sneered aloud. "Visualize the width of the beam you want, Scott. Well I visualized all right professor. I visualized a hole right through your shed." A very frustrated expression briefly crossed Scott's face. "Damn it! Even Bobby has made more progress towards controlling his powers than I have, and I've been working at mine twice as long."

"Are you all right?" Elaine blurted out as she stepped out of the bushes. She inspected the damage to the tool shed intently. The destruction was even more impressive up close. The shed resembled a target that had been bombed more than a few times. "Are those red beams what you do?" Scott didn't give her quite the prickly response she was expecting. In fact, he looked surprised that she had run up to him. 

The surprise was quickly covered up when he answered bitterly, "Yes, the beams are what I do. Hank gets a super high IQ and can climb walls. Warren can fly. Bobby can control ice and temperatures. I uncontrollably blow stuff up with my gaze of death." He smirked at her for a moment. 

"Of course, the professor and my therapist keep telling me I shouldn't think about it that way. I think they don't appreciate the healing, transforming energy of anger, remorse, and self pity." he added dryly. Elaine studied the shed again as she considered his words. 

"I guess you put a whole new spin on the old saying 'if looks could kill.' My daughter Jean can move things with her mind and read other people's thoughts." Scott was very quiet for a moment. 

"There are days I would love to have a gift like that," he finally replied. "At least you can do something with it besides hurt someone. Other times, I wouldn't want to be able to read other people's thoughts. I have a hard enough time trying to figure out who I am. I know I wouldn't know what to do with other people's thoughts bombarding me." They were both quite for a moment before Scott softly broke the silence.

"I owe you and your husband an apology. I was very rude. I was angry with the professor and took it out on you and your family. I'm very sorry for doing it." Elaine chuckled to herself for a moment.

"I accept your apology, Mr. Summers, though I cannot speak for my husband or daughter. You made a rather strong first impression." A cute, lopsided smile appeared on Scott's face.

"I guess your husband and daughter don't approve of sarcasm and name calling as a primary form of communication?"

"Only if it's coming from me," Elaine said, returning his smile. Scott exaggerated the gesture so she could tell he was rolling his eyes behind his glasses.

"People just don't appreciate blunt honesty and mean-spiritedness these days. You're expected to be honest, but if you're completely honest, you're considered rude. I will never understand this politeness thing. Where do you draw the line at being polite, and where do you drawn the line at being honest? I would rather be honest than polite."

"Me, too," she replied. "But I'm married to the chairman of a college history department. Nothing resembling honesty can come out of my mouth. I don't think people realize exactly how political a college campus is. I hate playing all the games." The rustling of Carol's long gown announced her presence before they both heard her voice call out.

"Scott?"

"Over here," he shouted back. Carol suddenly appeared in front of them.

"Hey. I decided I better go get you; Warren's bouncing a basketball off the part of the wall where Bobby's face would be now," she informed Scott, while studying the remains of the shed for a moment. "Slip up?"

"Some thing like that," Scott replied sheepishly. "I tried to blow the lock. I blew up the shed instead." Scott turned to Elaine.

"Mrs. Grey, thank you for accepting my apology. I have to get going." With that, he walked into the remains of the shed, grabbed some tools out of the wreckage and ran towards the house. Carol studied Elaine for a moment.

"I get the impression he apologized?" she asked. Elaine nodded. 

"Yes, he did. He's not such a bad kid once you get to know him."

"No, he's not," Carol replied with a big smile. "He just needed someone to give him a chance."

"He's at least one worry off of my mind," Elaine said, returning Carol's grin. "Now's there's the Worthington boy, who's the founding member of the 'Bimbo of the day club;' and the mad scientist, who's trying to blow up the school every other day and brings home body parts. The one with blue hair, I haven't gotten a feel for him yet."

"The place is never boring," Carol said, chuckling. "Any place with teenagers rarely is. You're right about Warren liking the ladies, but he never goes any further than a girl is willing to go. Some of Hank's experiments could have come right of a science fiction novel, but the last thing he'd ever do would be to hurt anyone. I've never met someone more determined to become a doctor. Scott's bitter and prickly, but after you get past that shell there's nothing but a heart of gold there. Bobby is a self-proclaimed slacker, but guess what? I think he should be doing my job. I've never met someone better at pulling people out of their shells. I think Scott's made the progress he has more because of Bobby than anything Charles or I have done for him. All four of them wouldn't think twice about jumping in to help someone in need. they're great kids."

Elaine considered Carol's words for a moment. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, sighing. "John is furious at Charles. He sees the decision that Charles made tonight as choosing Scott over our little girl. John can't comprehend the decision. I understand it somewhat because I was forced to make a similar decision when I had Sarah. I quit my job to raise the girls. I understand why Charles said that he couldn't maintain the arrangements we'd made anymore. Charles is a parent now and he has more than himself to consider. John can't see that. He can only see the situation as Charles having chosen someone over his little girl." 

"I get the impression that Jean's his favorite?" Carol asked. Sighing, Elaine pulled out another cigarette and lit it. 

"I don't think John ever meant it to happen. Jean was an unexpected surprise after the doctor told us we couldn't have any more children. I had a very hard time carrying her to term. Then, after her mutant powers were yanked to the surface, she spent most of her young life in and out of hospitals. You have no clue how horrible it is to watch your child suffer and know there's nothing you can do. John did everything in his power to protect and help her. Later, when she got better, it translated into spoiling her. Sarah resents all the attention we were forced to give Jean growing up." Carol gave her a thoughtful look.

"That's a common problem in a family with a chronically ill child," she pointed out. "The healthy child resents all the attention that the ill one gets, but at the same time feels guilty about that resentment." Elaine took a long drag on her cigarette. 

"You just summed up Jean and Sarah's relationship. John spoils Jean, and Sarah resents it, but at the same time Sarah feels guilty about resenting it because Jean was so ill growing up. If Jean wanted the moon, John would find a way to bring it down to her," Elaine explained, then took another long drag. "He can't say no to her. That leaves me playing the bad guy all the time. I'm the one who's always forced to tell Jean no. I'm the one forced to put down rules and boundaries. and I'm the one Jean feels she has to rebel against." Elaine had a bitter expression on her face. 

"I'm the bad guy. The fastest way to get anything done is to tell my headstrong youngest daughter not to do it. I get tired of playing that role. This decision is going to fall on my shoulders the same as it always does. If Jean hates being here, it will be my fault. If she likes it here, John will take the credit for wanting to send her here from the beginning. The horrible thing is, I don't see a choice. Jean needs training or she will end up right back in the hospital." Carol chuckled softly. 

"I think you and Charles should get together and swap stories." That remark drew a smile from Elaine. 

"I always wondered what the judge was thinking, making Charles, of all people, a parent," she said. Carol considered Elaine's words for a moment.

"I felt the same way in the beginning," she said. "Charles is the last person, in my experience, that the foster care system would consider for guardianship. The judge in the case thought differently at the time. I believed it was a huge mistake then, but now, I'm not so sure. Scott saw the real Charles Xavier behind the wheelchair and Charles saw the real Scott behind the glasses and the attitude. Maybe that's exactly what they both needed." Elaine absorbed that answer and responded.

"Maybe. I never quite thought of it that way."

"Scott has a wicked, dry sense of humor, once you really get to know him," Carol said impishly. "I will give Charles credit -- he took the personal ad that Scott bought on his behalf rather well. It said something like 'Single, white, rich, male seeking furred mutants for a night of kinky sex games. B.Y.O.L."

"B.Y.O.L?" Elaine asked, confused.

"Bring your own leather," Carol replied with a wink. Elaine almost inhaled her cigarette. "You should have seen the look on Charles' face when Scott announced it was a recruiting drive for the school. It was priceless. I guess that stunt was nothing compared to the Daddy Warbucks doll Scott managed to find, dress in drag, and wired to the grill of Charles' car. I don't know the details on that one. When I walked in, Charles' face was purple and Scott was just sitting there with a lopsided smirk on his face. I'm guessing that Scott is now responsible for the training room's maintenance for the rest of his natural life after that stunt." Elaine threw her head back and started laughing.

"It's nice to know Scott keeps Charles on his toes."

"Oh, he does, and that's exactly what Charles needs. I get the impression that not too many people have managed to out-think Charles." Then Carol's expression lost its humor and turned serious. "I think you should carefully consider sending your daughter here, Mrs. Grey."

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Aside from the fact that you couldn't find a better academic program, all the students here are mutants. Every one of them here knows how it feels to be an outsider. It's bad enough being a teenager, but being a super-powered one is even worse. Here, there's a support system. They all know what it's like to not have complete control over their powers. A couple of them understand how it feels to rip a door off and not mean to. One knows what it's like to slip up and freeze the rec room, and another might know what it's like to blow out the back wall of the west wing by mistake. Here they commiserate and support each other. The boys know that they aren't going through this by themselves, and they aren't alone in the world. I imagine your daughter is feeling very alone in the world right now." Elaine was very quiet for a moment. 

"I never quite considered it that way." Carol shrugged.

"If she doesn't like it here, you can take her out later. At least she will know there are others like her." Elaine stomped out her cigarette. 

"You've given me a lot to think about. Thank you. I believe it's time I go find my husband."

* * *

"You know, I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about the three of you," Scott stated dryly as he took a chisel and hammer and slowly loosened the plaster around the duct in which Bobby was stuck. 

"Bobby," he grumbled out loud. "You really need to stop putting aside special time in which to humiliate yourself." Right then, there was a loud 'thump' from the other side of the wall. 

"Warren, stop it with the basket ball!" Scott shouted. "You are supposed to be taking plaster down!" Warren walked into the room holding a basketball. 

"Now why would I want to unstick the little weasel? I finally got him in one place for a while, and I intend to enjoy myself."

"Because," Scott said, exasperated, "you're a ...wait, even I don't believe the nice guy remark. Because you're a ..."

"A materially driven charlatan," Bobby shouted from inside the wall.

"Thank you," Scott said loudly, so Bobby could hear him. "Because you're a materially driven charlatan."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Warren replied innocently. Scott took a deep breath and prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in for patience. 

"Like I was saying, there's really no profit in torturing Bobby."

"True," Warren acknowledged thoughtfully. "But there is the enjoyment factor, and it's free. So I am maximizing my enjoyment for the lowest economic cost."

"The lower classes will rise up and overthrow all the evil factory owners," Bobby yelled through the wall. "The lower classes will win the class struggle in the end." Warren bounced the basketball off of the wall again. 

"If you confiscated all the wealth in this country and distributed it evenly among all the people, in about three years, the wealth would most likely be in the hands of the people you confiscated it from in the beginning," he stated.

"That's why you're going to be the first to go during the revolt, Birdboy. You better be careful. Some of my father's friends might just know what happened to Jimmy Hoffa," Bobby retorted.

"Then a new upper class would rise up to fill the gaps of the old one," Warren said, emphasizing his point by bouncing the ball off the wall again. Scott rubbed his head; he was getting a headache. 

"When our capitalist system crumbles, and you two are fighting it out during the revolt, I'm going to stay out of it and go looting," he declared. "Hank! Put the tennis ball down and start knocking plaster down!" Warren shot him a snotty look for a moment. 

"You're really no fun. You know that?" Scott glared at him. 

"Now that I've been refreshed and enlightened by your point of view, get back to work getting Bobby out of the duct," he ordered. Right then, the ceiling above them groaned loudly. 

"What was that," Warren asked, looking up nervously. The ceiling groaned again. Scott jumped at Warren, tackling him into the other room just as the entire ceiling came crashing down.

"Did that ball of slime just try to kill both of us?" Warren asked, a shocked look on his face.

"Don't be ridiculous Warren," Hank said, looking down at them. The two had landed right at the budding scientist's feet. "It would take sentient intelligence to plot a murder attempt." Scott glared up at Hank. 

"It tried to kill me the last time It got loose." Hank gave him a snotty look.

"You tried to throw it in the microwave."

"It tried to kill me first," Scott claimed insistently. 

"It did not," Hank retorted. 

"It buried that lime green monstrosity of a dress under a ton of plaster," Warren added in a daze.

"See," Hank sneered at Scott. "It does nothing but good for humanity."

"It tried to kill me," Scott repeated, glaring at Hank.

"I could argue that validates my point," Hank said smugly. Before Scott could fire back a retort, Professor Xavier's voice roared from the entrance of the Dining room.

"What the devil is going on in here?" Scott exchanged ill looks with Hank and Warren before they all exclaimed out simultaneously.

"Professor, we can explain!"

* * *

"Okay. Let's go over this one more time," Charles Xavier said calmly, trying to ignore the tick in the corner of his eye as he studied the three students standing at attention in front of him. "This started several months ago during an experiment?"

"Yes, sir," Hank answered. "I was trying to genetically manipulate algae so it could absorb oil. If it worked, it could be used as a no-chemical clean-up method for oil spills."

"Translation," Scott said dryly. "It all started with pond scum."

"Thank you, Scott," Xavier said, his patience wearing thin. "I realized that." 

"Anyway," Hank growled, glaring at Scott. "I miscalculated the cohesive bonding of the algae."

"He turned the algae into a big slime ball." Hank glared in Scott's direction again.

"Thank you, but I think the Professor could figure that out," Hank said, smiling at the professor. "Anyway, some unforeseen events occurred down in the lab." Scott rolled his eyes.

"Bobby and Warren were goofing off around the experiment and knocked it over." Hank glared at Scott again. 

"And unexpected elements were knocked into the experiment," he explained. "Including some of Scott's DNA."

"It's pure evil, sir," Scott informed him.

"Well, Scott's DNA did produce some strange results," Hank stated matter-of-factly.

"Apparently my bad attitude is genetic, sir," Scott said, raising an eyebrow as Hank glared in his direction. 

"Oh, stop looking at me like that," Scott sneered. "It wasn't my DNA that gave it a taste for manmade materials. That was the Twinkie that got thrown into the mix."

"Could someone please get to the point?" the Professor demanded, exasperated.

"Yes, sir." Scott said, cutting Hank off. "Stir the elements already added, mix over low heat due to a small lab explosion fire and…" Scott paused, taking a deep breath. "We now have a ball of slime that likes to eat manmade materials, and every time it gets loose, it tries to kill someone. Last time it got out, it tried to drop the chandelier on me. Bobby got stuck in the air duct in the wall climbing after it, and it just tried to kill Warren and me by dropping a ceiling on us." Hank threw his hands in the air in exasperation, and turned to address Scott. 

"It did not try to kill you," he said. "Murder requires intelligence in some form." Hank took a deep breath, then addressed the professor again. 

"Anyway, we refer to experiment number 268 as 'It' because I refuse to address it by the name Scott suggested."

"Satan's Snot," Warren chimed in gleefully.

Xavier took a deep, cleansing breath and called on every one of the meditation techniques he'd learned while traveling in the Far East. Why didn't anything like this ever happen when he was teaching on a college campus? "I see," he said finally. "I hope you have all learned something from this little disaster."

"Never believe your friends when they say you're small enough to fit into somewhere," Bobby grumbled from inside the wall.

"That Bobby cannot argue socialist theory very convincingly," Warren added cheerfully.

"Never eat Twinkies in the lab while doing an experiment?" Hank offered. Everyone turned to look at him. 

"What?" Hank demanded. "My experiment was brilliant."

"I still hate people and they still annoy me," Scott said, wearing a thoughtful expression. "Bridesmaid dresses are a subtle form of revenge and torture. Being polite is just a lesser form of lying. Society holds higher regard for dishonest niceties than honesty. Finally, when you manage to corner an evil green snot ball in the microwave after it ate most of the clothes in your closet and tried to drop a chandelier on you, don't let your best friend talk you out of cooking the evil little snot ball on high for ten minutes for 'the good of humanity.'" Xavier felt a sudden migraine blossom behind his eyes.

"Well, as long as you learned something from this," he said dryly. "Now get Bobby out of the wall."

"It's going to require a sledge hammer and a hacksaw, sir," Hank butted in. Xavier took another deep breath.

"Do what ever it takes to get him out. You will catch whatever It is, then you will explain what happened to the dress to the Greys. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," the four boys responded in unison. On his way out, while passing the doorway into the other room, Xavier knew he would never forget the sight that greeted him. The crumbled ceiling was all over the room, and on top of a heap of rubble sat a ball of green slime that was happily eating a patch of lime green material sticking out of the pile. It was moments like these that made him wonder why he hadn't accepted that teaching position at Harvard.

"You know this would be a lot easier if you just used your optic beam," Warren said, watching Scott, who was standing on a chair, saw through the air duct with a hacksaw. Scott shot him an irritated glance.

"I told you, I don't have fine enough control of my powers yet, even with the visor. I could very well hurt Bobby, take the wall supports out, or even the room. This is more time consuming, but it's safer."

"Day is never finished. Master got me working. Someday master set me free," Hank sang from his floor-level position as he sawed through the bottom part of the duct. Scott sneered down at Hank.

"Stuff it," he ordered. He looked over at Warren, rolling his eyes behind his glasses. 

"You know? When I start considering these situations normal and everyday, I really should stop lying to my therapist and let her put me on lots of happy drugs."

"You do get lousy therapy when you continually lie and play head games with your therapist," an amused Hank informed him.

"She won't let me continue to affirm and embrace my bitter disposition," Scott answered, annoyed. "Besides, we would get along fine if she could accept the fact that my self-doubts are actually very perceptive insights into my psyche and not the baseless worries that she keeps trying to trick me into believing."

"What happened to my dress?" The angry voice of Sarah Grey easily carried over from the other room. Hank gave Scott an ill look.

"Speaking of us needing lots of happy drugs."

"I'll take care of it," Warren announced. "I'll even have my tailor put something together quickly to replace the dress. Something tasteful." Sarah appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips. 

"What happened to my dress?" she demanded. "And what is that green slime all over it?" Warren walked straight up to her, his most charming smile on his face.

"Ms. Grey, allow me to explain what happened. Can I call you Sarah?" he asked, making use of his natural charisma. "I want you to know that my personal tailor will replace the dress tomorrow." Warren threw his arm over her shoulder and led her out of the room, continuing to pile on the charm. Hank shook his head in amazement.

"I wish I could do that," he said admiringly. "Do you realize that Warren has charmed his way out of five tickets this month?"

"Well, he is the pretty one," Scott said, amused. "He has to be good for something. You almost through the bottom part of the duct yet?"

"I'm through," Hank announced, standing up.

"Great. Catch him when I saw through the last part of the duct above him." Scott sawed through the last little bit and the duct with Bobby in it fell over forwards like a tin soldier. "I told you to catch the duct," Scott growled.

"Damn it," Bobby yelled from inside the duct on the floor. "That hurt."

Hank shrugged at Scott and looked down at the section of air duct. "Whoops," he replied.

* * *

Charles Xavier, sitting at his desk, wrestled with the lid of a Tylenol bottle. When he'd watched Hank carry a sledgehammer while skipping into the other room, the dull ache between his eyes had exploded into a full-fledged migraine. He didn't want to know how high his blood pressure was right now.

"Charles?" he heard Elaine Grey's voice call out.

"John, Elaine, I'm in my office," Charles called back. Elaine and John walked into his office; Elaine had a very amused expression on her face.

"You do realize that Bobby's stuck in a chunk of air duct. Hank and Scott have it lying on your front lawn as they grease what parts of Bobby they can reach with Crisco. I guess they are having a hard time getting Bobby unstuck from duct's interior. It's quite a sight." Xavier forced himself to smile back at her, and vaguely wondered where he'd put the key to his liquor cabinet.

"I can image it is," he replied dryly. "I was trying to gather Jean's files together. That way you can bring them home with you when you leave tonight."

"Don't bother," Elaine said. "We've talked it over and decided we are going to send Jean to school here." Right then, Carol stuck her head into his office. 

"Where do you keep the dish soap Charles? It's not under the sink and it's looking like we are going to need it to get Bobby out."

"It's on the second shelf of the pantry," Xavier replied, not even bothering to look in her direction; he was too busy looking at the Greys and was in a state of shock.

"Thanks," was all she replied before she was gone. John cleared his throat. 

"Like we were saying, we have decided to send Jean here. We, of course, still have our doubts about a lot of things. But we feel that at this time, this is the best place for Jean to be. She will be on the other side of the house, far away from the boys -- right?" Xavier blinked at them, still in shock. 

"Of course."

"Professor?" Scott said, sticking his head in the doorway, noticing the Greys. "Excuse me for interrupting, but you're going to have to inform the cook that she's going to have to pull out all her pickle recipes, sir."

"Pickles, Scott?" Xavier asked, confused for a moment. Scott shrugged. 

"Pickling myself in my own bitterness just wasn't working anymore. We needed the pickle jar to catch experiment number 268; it can't eat through glass." Xavier rolled his eyes. 

"I'll inform the cook." Scott nodded. 

"Thank you, sir," he replied, then disappeared from sight. Charles turned his most charming smile on Elaine and John.

"Why don't you have a seat and we'll discuss when Jean will be joining us."

* * *

"Well, it was very nice to meet all three of you," Carol said, sporting a wide smile. "I look forward to getting to know Jean in the coming months. I hope she enjoys herself up here."

John, Elaine and Sarah smiled back at her. "I'm sure she will," John replied. "It was very nice meeting you. Charles, Jean will be up here next weekend. We have to be going."

Xavier smiled back at them. "Have a very safe trip home, John."

"Has anyone seen my wig?" Carol asked. "I thought I put it next to my hat, but when I went to go collect the rest of my costume, the wig wasn't there." Right then, Bobby came running out of house wearing the wig. 

"Look, Professor! I'm Jon Bon Jovi!" exclaimed Bobby. Scott suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

"I told him he needed to stop putting time aside to humiliate himself in public," Scott grumbled under his breath, before turning and addressing John and Sarah. "Mr. Grey, Ms. Grey. I owe you both an apology for being rude at dinner, there was no excuse for it."

"Better yet!" Bobby shouted, pulling out what looked like a pair of red sunglasses. "I'm Ann Wilson from Heart and I'm singing Scott's theme song." Bobby started singing very loudly and very badly. 

"If looks could kill, you'd be lying on the floor. You'd be begging me please, please, baby, don't hurt me no more. If looks could kill."

"Now he has to die slowly and painfully," Scott announced dryly.

"Bobby!" Warren yelled as he ran towards the younger teen. "You are going to die!" Bobby smirked at Warren.

"I told you to wait until I got my hands on your personal planner," he said gleefully.

"You sunk it to the bottom of the pool!" Warren shouted as he dove at Bobby.

"The working class wins the class struggle!" Bobby shouted. He threw Carol her wig, then ran in the opposite direction, Warren in hot pursuit.

"Are you sure we aren't making a huge mistake?" John asked, turning to Elaine. His wife's response was a sly, knowing smile.

* * *

"So the new student who's coming this weekend is a girl?" Bobby asked as he stuffed down a piece of apple pie.

"It would appear so," Hank muttered between mouthfuls. "Warren better collect all the dirty magazines he has stashed around the rec room."

"Yeah, yeah," Warren grumbled. "I'll get on it."

"How should we treat a girl mutant anyway?" Bobby asked thoughtfully.

"Well," Warren started. "You should be nice to her." He looked at Hank. "That means no body parts on her pillow."

"Oh, just take away all my fun," Hank complained.

"And above all," Warren said seriously. "You should always be polite." All three of them turned around at once and gave Scott "the look."

"What the hell are you three looking at me like that for?" Scott growled, glaring back at them.

* * *

"Jean, I told you to pack all your sweaters," Elaine said. "It's going to get cold fast with the season changing." Jean rolled her eyes. 

"Yes, mother." Elaine handed a bunch of sweaters to Sarah to put in the suitcase, then turned and walked out of the room.

"Anyway," Sarah said as she started packing the sweaters in the open suitcase lying on the bed. "Warren Worthington goes there. Can you believe it? He's even better looking in person than in pictures." Jean rolled her eyes and packed some more clothes in her suitcase, ignoring her older sister. 

"But I really think you should just avoid that other boy. He's nothing but trouble." Jean perked up at that statement.

"Really? What's his name?" Sarah rolled her eyes as she stuffed some more clothes in the suitcase. 

"Scott Summers," she said. "I mean it, Jean. You should avoid him. He's the one who wears glasses all the time. He had the nerve to call the dress I picked out for you ugly and accused me of wanting to torture you by making you wear it." Jean smiled secretly to herself. 

"Got it. Stay away from Summers." But she knew who she was going to introduce herself to first. The name Scott Summers had a very nice ring to it.


	3. Friday-Night Guy Talk, Stalkers, and Other Strange Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys spy via a telescope, and bond over pizza. Scott worries about the lipstick that won't come off. And Jean catches all of them at it.

"We're supposed to be using that telescope to look for that nebula for our test," Bobby Drake scolded Hank McCoy, "not using it so you can spy on Jim Wilson and see what he's working on for the science competition."

"Shut up, Robert, or I will tie you to your desk chair again. Come on, finish the equation," Hank McCoy grumbled not bothering to up from the telescope.

"Spying is cheating you know," Bobby continued, ignoring Hank's threat. Hank looked up from the telescope just long enough to glare back at Bobby.

"He was spying on me when I went down to the public library, trying to see what I was working on."

"He was not; he was just picking up a book. He even asked how your project was going. I think both you science geeks are taking this competition way too far."

"He wanted to know how my project is going," Hank sneered, looking back into the telescope. "He wants to sabotage my project." Bobby just rolled his eyes at Hank's back. 

"I saw that, Drake. You're cruising for a bruising, or at least to get tied up to that chair again. "

"Professor Xavier rescued me, and you got banned from your lab for an entire week," Bobby shot back.

"Yes, but it took him six hours to find you." Hank glanced up from the telescope to give Bobby a thoughtful look. "Professor Xavier is either slipping, or we're getting better. My new cold resistant rope is truly amazing stuff — it can take your freezing cold and stay sturdy." That last sentence was edged with a threat, and Bobby responded by sticking his tongue out at Hank.

"I feel sorry for you, Hank. It's Friday night, and you have so little of a life that all you can do is sit here and obsess about what Jim Wilson is doing for his project. At least Warren had a date tonight."

"That's it!" Scott Summers announced behind them as he reached the top of the hill where Bobby and Hank were standing. "I'm becoming a recluse and never leaving the house ever again. All I did was help Sally Hanson fix her flat. That's the last time I ever again help out a girl." And Scott dropped the two pizza boxes he was carrying on the ground next to Bobby. 

"I will never be able to show my face down at Harry's again." Hank and Bobby just looked at each other. 

"Scott, do you know you're wearing lipstick?" Bobby asked innocently, pointing at a spot right next to Scott's mouth. Scott just glared at him and grabbed a napkin to try to rub his skin clean.

"How do women take this stuff off once they get it on?" Scott grumbled as he continued to rub without much success. "It must take a low grade acid."

"Do I get the impression, O Fearless, that Ms. Hanson is still determined you're meant to be together?" Hank asked in a sweet tone as he opened the pizza box and grabbed a piece. "Face it, Scott, no one has ever turned her down before. I mean filthy rich, red-headed bimbos just don't get turned down that often. You’re a challenge because you’re the first to do so." Scott glared at Hank.

"Besides, she's a slut," Bobby added, almost stuffing a full piece of pizza in to his mouth at one time. Scott turned his glare from Hank to Bobby.

"That not nice, Bobby."

"But I have to concur with Bobby's assessment of the situation," Hank said, sitting down next to Scott. "So what did the lovely Miss Hanson do?"

"Besides try to kiss me and chase me around a table in front of everyone?" Scott asked. "She started singing, 'Take Another Little Piece of My Heart' — out of tune might I add — in the middle of Harry's, in front of everyone. I dropped the money for the pizzas on the counter and ran. I think I left Harry a really big tip. I have decided I'm never leaving the house again ever. What else can I do? I made it very clear that I'd rather dump gasoline over my head and set myself on fire than go out with her. How much more blunt do I have to be before she gets the idea?" Scott took a bite out of a piece of pizza he grabbed, and spoke around it.

"So how is the studying going?"

"Lousy. I haven't even had a chance to try to find the Nebula because Hank has been too busy spying on Jim Wilson to see what he's doing for the science competition, and I'm still getting a couple of my constellations messed up. I don't know why Professor Xavier is making us learn this stuff," Bobby grumbled.

"Besides it being a state requirement?" Scott asked. "Well, if you ever get lost, you can use the stars and constellations to guide you." Scott rolled his eyes even if his classmates couldn't see the gesture.

"I've told you this stuff before."

"I know, I know," Bobby said. "I still hate it." Right at that moment, Hank bolted up and ran over to the telescope, looking in it.

"That reminds me. Oh, come on. How long does it take you to put an equation together?" Hank said, now looking up from the telescope. "I don't believe it. He's still working on the same part of the equation. I wish he'd finish it, so I can confirm my project as more brilliant than his, and I can finish this exercise."

"Bobby's right. That is borderline cheating, Hank." Scott looked straight at where Hank was standing next to the telescope, but Hank just glared back in annoyance.

"So your pet has informed me several times this evening," he said. "I'm still annoyed at you for bringing him home." Hank indicated Bobby.

"I didn't bring him home; Professor Xavier did," Scott shot back.

"I still blame you," Hank sneered.

"Hey! I hate you both!" Bobby added indignantly.

Right then Warren's voice shot out of the dark, singing "So take it, take another little piece of my heart now, baby. Take it, if it makes you feel good." Scott just groaned in to his hands. 

"Oh, God. Warren was down at Harry's with his date." Right then, Warren landed next to them, smirking at Scott. 

"Yup, I was there to see it all." Scott just groaned again. "Face it Scott, Sally even stated she'd never 'done' a Boy Scout before. I'm hurt. She said you were the best kisser she'd ever kissed. Coming from Sally, that's quite a compliment."

"I did not kiss her! She jumped me and kissed me. I don't even like her," Scott shot back rather defensively. "All I did was help her fix her flat and you are enjoying this way too much."

Warren just smirked as he went for a piece of the pizza. "That's not Sally's version of what happened. My gosh, Scott, if you keep this up, I'm going to lose my reputation as the playboy around here. I even had a couple of girls come up and ask me if you have a girlfriend. Being the great guy I am, I was quick to inform them you didn't, and were completely up for grabs."

"I think after what Sally did to him tonight, Scott wishes you might have phrased it a little better than that, Warren," Bobby said with glee. "I think 'grabbing' is the last thing Scott wants to think about right now.

"Keep it up Bobby," Scott warned, glaring. "I know where Professor Xavier hid Hank's special rope, and I just might talk in my sleep and let the location slip."

"You’re the one who brought him home," Hank and Warren both stated, looking at Scott.

"I did not! Professor Xavier brought him home. I was just following orders."

"We still blame you," Hank and Warren said at the same time.

"Hey!"

"Cheer up, Scott, it could be worse," Warren added. "Sally could have done it in front of the alluring Ms. Grey. As it is, I'm the only one who was witness to your public humiliation."

"Scott says he's becoming a recluse and never leaving the house again, just like J. D. Salinger," Bobby added. Warren gave him a strange look. 

"Who?"

"J. D. Salinger. He wrote _Catcher in the Rye_ — for which our book report is due Monday. Professor Xavier assigned it a month ago."

"Oh, crap ... I forgot. Scott, could you help me out here."

"After you were such a good friend and informed all those girls that I don't have a girlfriend?"

"You know, any other guy would be thanking me right now."

"Hey guys, come quick! Jean's getting home with her date." Hank motioned from his location at the telescope. "Second week in a row." He trailed off a moment, staring through the eyepiece.

"So that's Josh. They must be getting along fairly well, if they're going out for a second weekend." Warren got to the telescope first.

"So that's Dorkboy. I think he's really gotta go." Hank took the telescope back from Warren.

"Lets see, letterman, three sports, band pin, I think — I can't really be sure about that one. Fairly tall, dark hair, and well built. I agree with Warren's assessment. Dorkboy's gotta go, my fine fellows."

"Let me see, Hank." Scott took his turn looking into the eyepiece. "I think Hank's right. That's a band pin. I don't know, though, they don't seem to be acting like they're all that serious."

"Are you kidding?" Warren butted in, grabbing the eyepiece. "The dress Jean's wearing says 'first base.'" Hank grabbed the telescope from Warren.

"I must disagree; I believe the dress says 'play it nice and you may get to first base someday."

"I think," Bobby said, "if Jean catches you spying on her, she's going to spin you all around until you toss your cookies."

"Shut up Bobby!" All three glared back at him.

"You can't say I didn't warn you," Bobby stated as he grabbed the telescope. "Now I want my chance to look." A pause. "They're not there anymore. He must have dropped her off and left."

"Give me that back Drake. I have spying to do." Hank snatched the telescope.

"Hey, I still have to find the Nebula!"

"Tough..." Hank told Bobby. "Oh, come on, Jim! You're still working on that same equation! I would have been finished hours ago." Warren turned to Scott. 

"Well, what do you think about Josh?" Scott just shrugged. 

"I think I'm going to follow my own advice to Bobby, and not listen to a word you and Hank say. And I'm still never leaving the house again."

"— 'not to listen to a word Hank and Warren say' about what Slim?" asked a voice out of the dark as Jean crested the top of the hill.

"Nothing." All the boys stated at once, as Bobby added a muttered, "We're dead."

"We're just up here, doing guy talk. How did your night go? And how did you know we're up here?" Warren asked smoothly.

"Actually, Hank's spying on Jim Wilson to see what he's doing for his science project," Bobby said. "Scott's up here hiding from Sally Hanson — she's a big slut you know — Warren's up here plotting, and ragging on Scott, and I'm up here trying to study for my test, but Hank won't let me have the telescope. Do you want some pizza? It's from Harry's."

"Pizza would be great," Jean said, while the other three boys tried to look innocent. "I just came to see what you four were up to since you seem to hang out here on Friday nights, and none of you has ever thought to invite me." Jean grinned slyly as she grabbed a piece of pizza out of the box. "So you guys are up here talking guy talk about stalkers and other strange thing that I, as a woman, should not be party to?" The guys just nodded. Her grin grew. 

"Well, that's nice to know. And if I ever catch the four of you spying on me again, you'll wish tossing your cookies is the only thing I'll do to you, do you understand?" The four of them just nodded again. Abruptly, Scott grinned at her. 

"Actually, we sneak up here on the hill to give Professor Xavier a break from the four of us, pig out on Harry's pizza, and get away from saving the world. We're sorry for spying on you, and for not asking if you'd like to come join us sooner. We just assumed you came here with a life already, that's all." He motioned for Jean to take a seat next to him. 

"Sit down; I have a feeling you're going to fit right in around here. If you want to stay and hang out, feel free. I could use some female advice on how to handle Sally Hanson anyway." Jean just smiled at them and sat down on the ground next to Scott.

"Yeah, we didn't invite you up because we thought you wouldn't be interested — being a girl and all," Bobby added quickly, handing her a napkin for her pizza.

"Scott, do you know you're wearing lip stick?" Jean asked innocently as she took another bite of her pizza. Scott just groaned. 

"You can start with the advice right now, in fact, by telling me how you women get this stuff off."

"Well ... " Jean started as her laughter floated on the night breeze down off the hill.


	4. Tormenting Jean, Killer Robots, and Other Bad Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's study date is treated to Danger Room robots gone berserk and apparent ritual sacrifice in Xavier's living room.

"Dave, come in." With a wide smile, Jean Grey met her study date at the door of Xavier's School for Gifted Children. "You don't know how much I appreciate you coming over to help me study for my math test."

"No problem Jean, I'm happy I can help." Dave said, smiling back as he stepped through the door. "So, this is Xavier's School — interesting."

Jean took his coat. "It can be. I figured we could study in the library." Dave nodded as followed her down the hall into the library.

* * *

Bobby Drake was currently in the library, too, thinking and plotting. He owed Hank, and it was going to be the prank of a lifetime. He'd just finished a session with Professor Xavier, who'd explained that the reoccurring dream that Bobby had been having was "a classic fear of abandonment," and not what Hank had told him it symbolized. Now that he actually thought about it, how many ways could you interpret a dream of getting launched into space alone? Hank had told him it symbolized his wanting to explore new frontiers, and the rocket ship had represented a certain part of the male anatomy. He'd then suggested that maybe Bobby should go talk to Jean, because she could introduce him to some nice guys, and then his dream would go away.

It had taken Bobby three weeks to get the guts up to go to the Professor and talk to him about the dream. The professor then explained that the dream represented Bobby's fear of being abandoned, then had continued that he was probably having it now because he'd recently discovered he was a mutant, and he was still unsure how this discovery would affect his relationship with his family. It was quite a common and normal fear.

Oh, yeah — Hank was going to pay. Bobby hadn't figured out how he was going to get Hank back yet, but it had to be good. Bobby swore to himself that after this experience, he was going to listen to Scott's advice and never listen to another word that Hank McCoy said. He was still stewing about how he was going to make Hank suffer when Jean walked in with her date.

"Come on, Dave, we can study in here." That's when she noticed Bobby, "I'm sure Bobby is just leaving — right, Bobby?" Jean was making a motion with her head towards the door. 

"You could go track down Slim and see if he needs some help working on the equipment." Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Slim's not here, Harry called and asked if he would mind filling in for one of his waitresses. She's sick, and Harry knows that if he's in, Scott will always take the work. In fact. I'm waiting for him to get home. I need his help with something."

"But you can wait for him somewhere else, right?" Jean interrupted, edging the words with a threat. Bobby rolled his eyes again and started to get up. 

"Jeez, I'm leaving okay? No need to get violent." Bobby met Warren in the hallway and told him to stay out of the library because Jean and her date were in there. Warren nodded and then got "that" look on his face and headed straight for the library, and Bobby wondered if Jean would end up killing Warren by the end of the evening. As he was walking through the halls aimlessly, he happened to see IT in one of the classrooms — the object of his revenge.

It was Hank's medical dummy. Hank had specially designed it as a dummy a surgeon could use. The outside had been created from unstable material, so it actually simulated cutting through real skin, and the dummy even gushed fake blood if the student cut into an artery or vein. In fact, Hank had designed it to look like a real human being, though Bobby personally thought the dummy looked more like a corpse than a living patient. That's when inspiration struck. This was going to be great.

* * *

When Warren walked into the library, he found Jean and her date leaning over a math book together. Warren did a quick assessment of 'Dave' — brown hair, tall, fairly cute. And Warren decided Dave had to go, he just wasn't going to do, at all. The quicker Dave was out of the picture, the better. Smiling sweetly as he walked in, he headed to the far side of the room. 

"Pretend I'm not even here," Warren whispered. He sat directly across the room from Dave, behind Jean's back and just stared at him. Every few minutes, Dave would look up at Warren, frown, then go back to reading his book. Jean would turn to glare at Warren, who'd smile sweetly back and shrug, then pretend to go back to reading his book, as if he had no clue what was bothering Dave. This continued for ten long minutes until Jean turned around and glared at Warren.

"Don't you have somewhere else to go?" she demanded. Warren looked into her murder-filled eyes, and gave her a thoughtful, innocent expression.

"No."

* * *

Meanwhile in the basement lab of their resident mad scientist. Hank McCoy was working on his latest project — creating a new drone for the danger room. He had taken the Shop-Vac out of the hanger and done some tinkering, and was quite pleased with the results. He thought this might be the next step up for he and his teammates from swinging projectiles. If his calculations were correct, this new robot of his could prove to be quite the challenge.

Plugging the robot in to the main power supply to charge its batteries, he threw a switch and waited. After a few moments, the robot bagan showing signs of life. Hank couldn't help himself, as he threw his head back and shouted. 

"It's alive, I tell you it's alive." 

"Targeting," his robot droned, as it just lit up. That’s when Hank realized that he'd forgotten to program any safeties in to his robot. "Oh, no," was the only thought that came to Hank's mind, as the robot droned once again.

"Targeting."

* * *

"So, Dave, are you planning on taking lessons on how to disregard ethics in law school? Or are you going into the program with a total lack of them already?" Warren asked Dave sweetly and Jean groaned to herself, imagining how she was going to kill Warren when Dave left. She pictured cutting off Warren's air telekinetically when another idea came in to her head.

Smiling equally sweetly at Dave, she told him she'd be right back, sent, "I'm going to kill you," to Warren telepathically, and walked out of the library. She headed straight to the gym and picked up a bo staff she'd been working with lately. She'd lure Warren out of the library and beat the stuffing out of him. Slim had taught her a few moves, and she was going to show every one of them to Warren — and enjoy it. Bird-boy was going to become a pillow when she was done with him. As she headed back towards the library with the bo staff, the lights suddenly went out. 

"Hank," she grumbled, "what have you done now?"

* * *

"I can't wait to see the expression on Hank's face when he gets a load of this. Hank is never going to see this one coming," Bobby Drake joked, smirking to himself as he set the last spring that would launch the dummy. Bobby had just finished the last touches on his trap when the lights suddenly went out.

"Hank," he grumbled, "what have you done now?"

* * *

Scott Summers had been having a very good night. Harry's hadn't been busy, but the people he'd served had been generous tippers and Harry had even let him go home early. Professor Xavier was going to be out late tonight, so that meant no early morning danger room practice. Yes, it was turning out to be a good night.

That was, until he made it home. There were no lights on, and there seemed to be no sign of life in the house. Scott decided to approach carefully and enter by an alternative route — just in case there was trouble. Scott quickly blended in to the dark and heading towards the house, muttering.

"Hank, what have you done now?"

* * *

Jean had almost made it back to the library when she saw a tall figure before her in the dark. Determining that it wasn't Hank or Bobby because the shadow was too tall, she took a stance and swung the staff with all her might.

"I warned you, bird-boy, and now you're going to pay." she shouted, as she swung. She was rewarded with a loud "thump" as her staff connected with Warren's middle. As Warren doubled over, she brought her staff around for another pass and hit him on the side of the head. But she realized it wasn't Warren when a pair of glasses bounced off her staff, sailed across the hallway and hit the wall with a "thunk." Right then, the emergency power kicked on and she saw Scott lying and groaning at her feet, clutching the side of his head. Cursing under her breath, she swore that next time, she'd do a quick mental scan before swinging in the dark. But Scott wasn't supposed to be home yet; Harry's didn't close for another half-hour.

"Oh, shit — Scott, I'm so sorry. Don't open your eyes." Jean scrambled to retrieve his glasses from where they'd landed across the hall. 

"I'm so sorry. I thought you were Warren." Scott shook his head, trying to clear it, and put his hand to the side of his head where he thought he might need stitches. 

"Obviously," he said dryly as he staggered to his feet. "Planning on kicking a certain part of Warren's anatomy, Red?" Jean nodded, and caught him as he staggered.

"Something like that. Come on; lets go get a towel for your head, and see if Hank or Warren can drive us to the emergency room to get you checked out. I think you might need stitches." Jean helped Scott stagger to the first floor bathroom. He'd just turned the doorknob when Bobby jumped up from where he was hiding. 

"Scott don't go in there," he shouted. But the warning came too late, as the door swung in and the dummy attacked. It hit Scott hard, and sent him sprawling onto the floor, the dummy landing atop him. Scott reacted by blowing the damned dummy in to bits, and red, fake blood rained down all over Scott, Jean, Bobby, and the downstairs living room.

"Professor Xavier isn't going to be happy about this," Bobby said sheepishly as he wiped some of the blood off his face. Jean took in the damage to the now blood splattered living room, and nodded. It looked as if several people had met a very gory end there, as red coated the room from floor to ceiling. The dummy's head, which had landed in the middle of the coffee table, just added to the whole effect.

"And this started out as such a good night," Scott stated softly as he tried to wipe his glasses clean. But as he was coated head to toe in the fake blood, all he managed to do was smear his glasses worse. He tried, without success, to spit some of the red substance out of his mouth. 

"I'm truly starting to understand what may have motivated Carrie to try to kill every one of her classmates." Right then Hank came bolting up the basement stairs and quickly slammed the door behind him. 

"Good evening, my fine compatriots," he said a little too cheerfully. "Scott, do you remember discussing the thought of maybe creating a robot for us to engage with in the Danger Room?" Scott just narrowed his eyes at him from where he was sitting on the floor.

"What did you do?" Scott demanded. Hank looked a bit sheepish as he leaned more of his weight against the basement door. 

"I created a prototype for us to show Professor Xavier. Unfortunately, I was so caught up in my own brilliance that I forgot to add safeties. The robot has, uh, gone a little out of control." That's when Hank noticed the blood-splattered living room and the dummy head on the coffee table. 

"What the hell did you three do to my dummy?" Before anyone could answer, something crashed against the door down to the basement, and Hank jumped clear as the door got blasted off its hinges. There floated Hank's robot. It looked like a vamped up Shop-Vac, wearing one of Scott's visors. Scott shot Hank a glare. 

"What the hell did we do to your dummy? What the hell did you do to my spare visor?"

"Well," Hank said as he ducked behind the couch, "I needed something to make it look spiffy." Scott, Jean, and Bobby ducked for cover as the robot tried to blast them.

"Targeting," it droned. Warren came running in from the direction of the library, to see what all the commotion was about. 

"What's going on in here?" He blinked at the robot. "Is that the shop-vac from the hanger?" The robot just tried to blast him in answer to his question and he jumped for cover. Scott's voice rang out, 

"Jean, hold the robot still. Bobby, freeze it. Warren and Hank, distract it. I'm going to blast it."

"Got it." the group responded from four different spots from the room. They moved in for action. The plan went off with just two hitches. The first was that, as Scott blew the robot apart, a burning part landed on the couch and set it on fire. The second one was that, when Scott got clear to shoot, the robot managed to blast him at the same time. He slipped on a pool of fake blood trying to get his footing and ended up falling down the basement stairs, landing with a 'thunk' and not moving. The four of them stood at the top of the stairs, looking at Scott, trying to figure out what to do. Dave came out of the library right then. 

"Jean are you all right?" Dave asked. He stopped dead to stare in shock at what looked like a blood-spattered room, and Jean and Bobby coated in what looked like blood. Robot parts all over, and the couch on fire in the middle of the room. He walked over to the top of the stairs where the four of them were looking down at Scott, lying on the basement landing and not moving. Scott also looked to be covered in blood. Dave then looked up at the four of them in horror. Warren didn't even try to catch him as his eyes rolled back and he hit the floor in a dead faint.

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Professor Charles Xavier said calmly as he tried to keep his temper under control and pinned his four students with his glare. "I get called by the hospital, saying they had to admit Scott for observation. He has a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, six stitches on the side of his head, and five on his back. That was, of course, after the police showed up to investigate a reported ritual murder in my basement. Reported by Jean's date, no less. The police took in the sight of what appeared to be my living room covered in blood, the burned up remains of my couch, and what seemed like a Shop Vac blown up all over the room. I don't think I'm missing anything. I hope all of you know how much trouble you're in."

"Yes, sir." came the response from the four students standing in the emergency room waiting area. 

"Good." Xavier snapped. "I expect all of you to help Scott take notes in class because he won't be able to use his arm for several weeks. You are all also grounded until further notice. Am I understood?"

"Yes, professor," said the four of them.

"Sir, can I go see him?" Jean asked quietly. Xavier nodded.

"See if he needs anything before we leave."

* * *

"Hey how are you feeling?" Jean asked quietly as she walked into Scott's hospital room. He glanced in her direction.

"I feel fuzzy, but can't feel anything else," he grumbled.

"Be thankful. I understand you're going to feel that shoulder in the morning. Professor Xavier wanted to know if you needed anything before we left?" Scott just shook his head slowly. 

"I lost my math tutor tonight," Jean sighed. "I don't think Dave is coming back, considering he was the one who reported us to the police. You wouldn't know anyone who might be interested in tutoring me in math, would you?" Scott just gave her a considering look. 

"I might be interested — why?" Jean smiled at him.

"Does that mean we're still friends? Even after I brained you with the bo staff?" Scott nodded yes. "Good I was hoping you might say that." She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. He blinked at her. 

"If someone walked in right now, they might think we're more than just friends." Jean shot a coy look over her shoulder as she walked out.

"So? What's a little kiss between friends? Besides Slim, you’re drugged. You won't remember anything tomorrow anyway. Now shut up and go to sleep, before I have to hit you with my stick again. Understand?" Scott nodded at her. 

"Good. Then I'll go pluck bird-boy, and see you in the morning." Scott shook his head as she walked out of his hospital room. He'd never understand that girl.


	5. Twinkies, Holdups, and Other Things That Aren't Good For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One dead rat, one dim-witted 'bank' robber who accidentally holds up the pet store, and a snake that won't eat people. Oh, and Jean ends up with another traumatized study date.

"Scott!" Scott Summers heard Bobby Drake voice echo down the hall. Bobby ran breathless in to the dorm room they shared. 

"I'm so glad I found you! I'm in really big trouble." Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses not bothering to look up from the book he had been reading. 

"What now? Did Warren find out that you used his toothbrush to clean the shower again?"

"Worse," Bobby stated.

"Hank found out that you ate his entire hidden stash of Twinkies?"

"Worse," Bobby announced.

"You played an evil practical joke on Jean and she's looking to trounce you?"

"Close. I killed Blinky," Bobby stated miserably.

"Blinky?" Scott asked, finally looking up from his book. Bobby started jumping from foot to foot.

"You know Hank's Blinky." Scott gave him a confused look until it suddenly clicked. 

"Hank's lab rat Blinky? Blinky the one he rescued by breaking in to an animal research facility? Blinky the rat for whom Hank carefully measures out food everyday to optimize his life span?" Bobby nodded miserably. 

"I killed him."

Scott blinked at him and asked, "How?" Bobby bit his lip. 

"I sorta fed him a Twinkie."

* * *

"Well he definitely looks dead to me," Warren stated calmly. The three of them were gathered around Blinky's cage looking down at one dead rat.

"Blinky the wonder rat definitely went to that big chunk of cheese in the sky," Scott stated dryly.

"Hank's going find out about this. What am I going to do? He's going to kill me."

"He'll know you knocked off Blinky on purpose. Professional jealousy," Warren said with glee to Scott. "Blinky figured out that last maze faster than Bobby did. Bobby just couldn't take being outscored by a rat." Bobby stuck his tongue out at Warren.

"Did not!"

"Calm down Bobby," Scott interjected calmly. "We just tell him the truth. You didn't mean to kill Blinky."

"Funny," Warren announced dryly, trying very hard to keep a straight face. Warren was looking down at the very dead rat. "I always pictured us prying a Twinkie out of Hank's cold stiff fingers. You know after a two-handed, Twinkie dose of death."

"You're not funny," Bobby retorted. "We can't tell Hank what happened. He threatened that if I even touched Blinky's cage, he would tie me up to a lightning rod, wrap me in tin foil, and put me out during an electrical storm." Scott took a deep breath, reaching for his legendary self-control. 

"How do you know the Twinkie killed Blinky?" asked Warren. Bobby then took a deep breath.

"Well, he was looking so lonely and miserable in his cage. I gave him some M&M's. They always make me feel better."

"I always knew that those little candy-coated chocolate candies of death would be responsible for the demise of someone Hank cared for."

"Shut up, Warren," Scott broke in. Bobby took another breath.

"Well the M&M's seem to cheer him up really well but he still seemed sad, so I thought I would give him some Mountain Dew."

"He did the Dew, or maybe the Dew did him?" Warren was still trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

"Shut up, Warren," Scott said again.

Bobby glared at Warren and continued, "That really helped. He still seemed a little sad, though, so I gave him my last Twinkie."

"He died by Twinkie overdose. Hank will be so jealous." Warren was now laughing into Scott's shoulder. "Hank always wanted to die smothered by Twinkie wrappers."

"What am I going to do? Hank is going to kill me," Bobby stated quite seriously. 

Scott sighed, "Bobby get a Ziploc bag. We'll go to the pet store and replace Blinky. Hank will never know."

* * *

"What does the rat look like? What type of stupid question is that? It's just a plain ordinary lab rat," said Scott, holding the Ziploc bag up in front of his face so he could inspect the dead rat a little more carefully, all the while talking on the phone to the pet store clerk. "Well he's sorta white."

"And bloated," Warren added in cheerfully.

"He has a pink nose, and a black spot on his right foot," Bobby chipped in, glaring at Warren. Scott rolled his eyes at both of them as he continued to speak to the clerk.

"He's medium size but he's on the fat side."

"And stiff as a board," Warren stated gleefully, earning another glare from Scott. 

"He's just a plain ordinary lab rat, except he has a black spot on his right foot."

"He also has his tongue sticking out like this," Warren said, striking did a classic dead, crossed-eyed with tongue sticking out of the side of the mouth pose. Bobby kicked Warren in the shin.

Scott ignored the both of them and continued talking to the pet store clerk. "You might have a rat that fits that description. That's great. We'll be right down to look at it."

Bobby was dancing around chanting, "I'm saved."

Right then Hank McCoy came sulking in to the room while carrying a box. Scott quickly hid Blinky behind his back. "Hank. What are you doing here?"

Hank's eyes darted back and forth and gave all three of them a glare. "Nothing. What are you three doing here?"

"Nothing," the three of them replied quickly.

"That's what I thought you would say," Hank replied. "You never saw me. In exchange I never saw what the three of you might be doing in here."

"Deal," Bobby announced

"So what are the three of you talking about?" Hank asked innocently.

"Something even stiffer than Scott," Warren answered cheerfully. Bobby kicked Warren in the shin again.

"Well, that's very interesting," Hank announced calmly. "I have to be going. Later." With that, he took his box and strode out of the room.

"That was really close," Bobby sighed.

"What do you think Hank's up to now?" Warren asked.

"I don't know. Hopefully he won't blow up the boathouse again." Scott threw Blinky over to Bobby. "Here, I am not getting caught with the murder victim. I'm going to go get my coat and tell the Professor the three of us are going to town. Take care of Blinky."

"Maybe he can try to feed Blinky a Tootsie Roll this time," Warren added gleefully. Scott glared back at him. Warren put his hands up. 

"Okay, okay. I'll go get my keys. Though I don't know why I'm so nice to you two." Scott rolled his eyes at Warren. 

"I believe you being nice had nothing to do with it. If I remember correctly, the word you're looking for is blackmail. Oh, yes it's coming back to me now," Scott stated dryly. "Something about you gluing Professor Xavier's favorite pipe back together. You broke it, and I caught you gluing it with Hank's special glue in the kitchen."

"Blackmail is such an ugly little word and so harsh," Warren replied smoothly. "We are going to get so much mileage out of this from Bobby. I think I'm going to have him wash my car first. I'll come up with something more humiliating later."

* * *

Bobby Drake was in the kitchen with Blinky when he heard voices coming. Frantically looking around the kitchen, he tried to find a spot to hide the very dead rat. As the voices got closer, Bobby ran up to the refrigerator and threw Blinky in the vegetable crisper. No one would ever find him there. No one around the school ever ate anything that resembled the color green. Jean walked in to the kitchen, while talking to a young man. 

"Hey, Bobby, what's up?" Jean smiled at him sweetly. Bobby blinked at her. 

"Nothing much. I'm sorta chilling an old friend. You?" Bobby replied innocently. Jean gave him a strange questioning look at that answer. 

"Bobby, I would like you to meet Joe," she said, gesturing to the young guy that walked in to the kitchen with her. "Joe, I would like you to meet my classmate, Bobby Drake." Joe waved to Bobby as he sat down at the kitchen table. 

"It's nice to meet you, Bobby." Bobby nodded at Joe.

"Joe and I were going to make ourselves some sandwiches. You want one?" Jean asked, as she headed towards the refrigerator.

"No. I better not. Scott and Warren are taking me into town," Bobby said, placing himself between Jean and the refrigerator. "I've got a better idea. Why don't you and Joe go into the rec room and I'll bring something out to you." Jean smiled at him.

"That's really sweet of you Bobby, but you just said you were heading to town with Scott and Warren." Jean stepped past him and opened the refrigerator. Jean was so wrapped up in talking to Joe that she never noticed she had pulled Blinky out of the crisper and put him on a sandwich. Bobby thought it might be prudent right then to try to sneak out of the kitchen.

"What is a dead rat doing in the refrigerator?" Jean asked very calmly. She had only let out one blood-curdling scream when she had almost taken a bite of Blinky. Now, she was dangling Blinky by his tail. For a girl, she recovered rather fast, Bobby thought. Warren, hearing Jean's scream, came running in to the kitchen. 

"What's going on in here?"

"I found this in the refrigerator," Jean announced, shaking Blinky by his tail. "What's it doing in there you ghouls?"

"Hey!" Bobby announced indignantly "Hank's the ghoul. We think it's a med school requirement."

Warren smirked at Jean's grossed-out expression as she dangled Blinky. "Bobby's right; Hank's our resident ghoul. He would be very insulted if he heard you give the title to anyone else. Look at what he did to the pig eyeballs. I didn't know they could bounce like that, did you?"

"Yeah, that was really cool. He let me stab the pins into that pickled frog," Bobby chipped in. Jean took a deep breath, counting to ten. 

"What is a dead rat doing in the refrigerator?" Jean asked. "And, if I remember correctly, the three of you dared him to bounce the eyeballs around the lab. The eyeball hit me as I tried to cut in to my poor dead frog. I ended up cutting his head off by mistake."

"That was pretty cool, too," Bobby added gleefully. "The expression on your face when that eyeball hit you and that frog's head flew across the lab...." Jean shot Bobby a glare, and Bobby wisely decided to shut up. "I will ask again one more time. What is a dead rat doing in the crisper?" Warren just gave her an innocent look. "Chilling for one last Twinkie perhaps?" Bobby kicked Warren in the shin.

"Where are you two? We need to get going," Scott's voice called as he entered the kitchen.

"They're explaining what this is doing in the crisper," Jean announced, as she once again shook Blinky by his tail for emphasis. Scott gave Bobby an exasperated look. 

"Bobby, I told you to take care of him. Look at Blinky; he's covered in mayonnaise. Wash him off in the sink and let's get going." Jean took a deep breath to control her temper, and tried to figure out what was going on.

"You're taking a dead rat into town?"

"I washed Blinky up in the sink," Bobby butted in, running up to Scott. "I'll hold him out the window during the car ride to blow-dry him off."

"You're taking a dead rat to town," Jean once again stated.

"He's cool in a dead way." Bobby maintained.

"I've had worse dates," Warren said dryly. Scott shrugged at her. 

"He's not a big talker, and I don't have to pay to get him into the movies. Come on, Bobby. We have to get going." He looked at Joe, who was sitting at the kitchen table. "It was very nice to meet you...?"

"Joe," Bobby blurted out.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Joe," Scott said, throwing his jacket over Bobby's head. "Bobby, Warren and I have to get going. I hope you enjoy your visit." Scott dragged Bobby out of the kitchen, with Warren following behind them.

"So those are your classmates," Joe stated, "They seem to be a very interesting lot." Jean smiled at Joe. 

"Unfortunately they can be." Jean just rubbed her head. "You want to go and get lunch at Harry's? On me." Joe smiled back at her.

"I would love too. I have one small problem though. My arm is glued to your kitchen table."

* * *

" **HANK**!" Jean's voice echoed through the basement lab. "I want the solvent right now!" Hank McCoy pushed the pair of safety goggles he had been wearing onto his forehead. 

"What, I might ask, are you talking about?" He stood to address his teammate, as she walked in to the lab with a very angry look on her face. "As you can see, I'm a little busy right now. I and this dinnerware have a date with a blow torch." That's when Jean noticed the bright, blue plastic dinner plate held tightly in a vise on Hank's lab table. 

"What are you doing with that plate?"

"I am going to blowtorch it. The guarantee says these plates cannot be broken or melted, or your money back. Sounds like a challenge for science to me. Care to join my endeavor? If the blowtorch doesn't work, I'm borrowing the chainsaw." Jean blinked at him. 

"I will never understand how you see everyday objects as challenges," Jean stated dryly. Hank gave her a snotty look. "Because I'm brilliant and you're not. If you don't have the stomach to see dinnerware meet a horrible end, please leave." Jean took a deep breath. 

"I want the solvent for your super tacky glue. My date's arm is glued to our kitchen table." Hank gave Jean a very amused look. 

"I assure you that's quite impossible. It's not my glue. My glue is..." said Hank, as he spun around and pointed to an empty spot on his shelf. "Missing and not on the shelf where I put it." He gave Jean a sheepish look. 

"Oh dear. You're sure it's my glue?" Jean nodded to him. 

"It has the wintergreen smell."

"Oh my. Oh my stars and garters," Hank muttered. "You see, I never created a solvent for that particular glue." Jean counted to ten. 

" **HANK!** " Hank gave Jean another sheepish look. 

"I'll be right up to take a look. It's just that arm amputation is always an option."

* * *

"I'm, like, returning the snake because it, like, doesn't eat people," the man standing in front of them in the pet store line droned. 

"My cult was, like, really mad because it wouldn't, like, eat our sacrifice. We're, like, afraid that, like, our dark master will be really pissed. So we're, like, getting another snake. One that, like, eats people."

"Dude. Like, how would you know if that snake ate anyone or not?" Warren answered back. "I mean the person would, like, never be able to tell you because they would, like, be in the snake's stomach and all."

The guy blinked at Warren, nodding his head. At least Warren was entertaining himself. 

"Dudes. I, like, never thought of that." Scott took one look at the guy's 'Satan Rules!' T-shirt and rolled his eyes. Scott then looked ahead of them in line where the clerk was still fighting with her boyfriend on the phone. They were not going anywhere, anytime soon. 

"So this is Hell," Scott grumbled to himself. "I always thought it would be warmer."

"Is that stupid clerk done fighting with her boyfriend yet?" The young woman standing behind them grumbled as she tapped her foot. 

"I have to go home and feed my fish before I hit the gym." She watched Bobby as he pulled a snowball out of his pocket and gave him a distasteful look. 

"Do you know how much fat, calories, and preservatives are in one of those things? If you want something to eat, you should try a soy shake." Bobby gave her an absolute look of horror and ducked behind Scott. 

"Soy shakes?" Right then, a young, average-looking guy walked in to the pet store. He then pulled out a gun and started waving it around. 

"This is a hold up! I want the vault open right now! No one move and don't even think of going for the alarms." Scott studied the guy for a moment

"You're new at this, aren't you?" Scott asked. The guy just blinked at Scott's calm question. 

"What gives you that idea? I've robbed lots of banks. Why? You better do what I say. Have the tellers empty the vault. I swear I'll start shooting." Scott shook his head.

"The bank's next door," Scott stated calmly. A look of panic crossed the guy's face for a moment. 

"I knew that. I meant to hold up the ... the —"

"Pet store," Scott supplied for him. The guy blinked at Scott and started nodding. 

"I knew that. Yeah, I meant to hold up the pet store."

* * *

"So Joe," Hank addressed Jean's date as he inspected the spot where Joe was stuck to the table. 

"Jean tells me you want to be a writer. So what somewhat interesting things do you have to say that you think the world might be interested in?" Hank asked as he ducked under the table to see if it was possible to take the table apart. Hank flinched when he recognized the workmanship. Scott Summers had rebuilt the table after an accident with his optic beams and had apparently built the table to hold together. Hank got up from under the table.

"I want to be a reporter actually. I'm interested in investigating the biotech industry. No one really understands what those people are doing," Joe replied, missing Hank's dig.

"Yes," Hank replied dryly. "That would require math skills, such as counting past ten." Apparently, Hank decided, Joe wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

"I mean, look at what biochemists are feeding us these days," Joe continued. "All you have to do is look at all the preservatives in a Twinkie. God knows what that stuff is doing to us."

Hank decided at that moment that he disliked Joe. Joe wasn't on the bright side, and, added to that fact, he had insulted biochemistry AND Twinkies in the same breath. No, he and Joe were not going to like each other at all.

"I think you are forgetting the fact that biochemistry does a lot of good. Look at the new drugs and medicines that researchers are helping to develop. Not to mention their contributions to genetic research."

"Which they test on animals," Joe announced angrily. Hank rolled his eyes, and turned to look at Jean. With his back to Joe, Hank inclined his head towards Joe's direction and put his finger and thumb into the shape of an L on his forehead.

"Can you get him out?" she finally asked, glaring at Hank. Hank shrugged.

"I can't take the table apart. I'll have to commend Slim on his excellent handiwork the next time I see him." Hank glanced at Jean, an evil look spreading across his face when he looked in Joe's direction. 

"I would go try to figure out a solvent for this particular bonding agent, except I'm one of those evil biochemists; my time is really divided up between poisoning Twinkies and torturing lab animals." Jean shot Hank a murderous look and shook her head in a manner that said "don't do it." Hank just donned an innocent expression as he continued.

"Lord knows what the chemicals in the solvent would do to him anyway, right? I really think that amputation is our only option." Jean glared at him and shook her head again. Hank ignored her, adding a final comment with a huge amount of glee. "I'll go get the chain saw."

* * *

Scott rubbed his head as he addressed the young man holding the gun — the densest robber in history. "Try to follow me here. Pet store. No large vaults with money in them."

"Try speaking to him slowly Slim," Warren tossed in, quietly rolling his eyes. "Try leaving out the big words like 'and' and 'the.'" Scott addressed the young man holding the gun again.

"Why don't you put the gun down? If you do, I'm sure that everyone here won't see anything." Everyone in the pet store just nodded in agreement. But the young man stood in front of them all, blinking like he wasn't following any of this.

"This is why I'm a firm believer in gun control," Warren said in exasperation.

"Never mind gun control. How about birth control?" Bobby added in quietly, shaking his head. Warren gave Bobby a thoughtful look and rolled his eyes in agreement. 

"You have an excellent argument for THAT standing in front of us, too. Someone should have given his mother a pamphlet. People have the nerve to accuse us of being the products of inbreeding."

"Shut up, you two. He's easily confused," Scott growled. Scott turned and faced the young man again. "Let's try this again. Bank has money. Pet store has pets." Scott shook Blinky by his tail for emphasis.

The young man holding the gun just blinked for a moment, looking as if he were starting to comprehend what Scott was saying. 

"There's a safe right?" Exasperated, Scott looked up at the heavens.

"Why me?"

* * *

Jean took a deep breath and smiled at Joe. Every time she brought a date home the guys always managed to uncover a trait in her date that she hated. It was not going to happen this time. Joe had, so far, been nothing but good-natured and calm — a perfect gentleman about everything that had happened so far. He was even taking Hank in stride. Not like her last date, who had left the house screaming and vowing he was becoming a monk. She still didn't know what Slim had said to him. All Scott had told her was that her last date just didn't have much of a stomach for mind games. Next time, her date should consider with whom he was playing first.

Hank walked back in to the kitchen sulking. Jean had shot down the chainsaw idea. Hank shot her a pouting look. "I brought something that should get him unstuck. Considering you shot down my brilliant idea of the chainsaw," Hank paused, pulling out a beaker. "This will eat through the glue guaranteed."

Hank walked over to Joe with the beaker. "This is a very corrosive acid. It will take the glue right off. Don't worry about the arm. I'll get you to a hospital very quickly so they can save what's left of it." Hank dropped a couple of drops on the table right next to Joe's arm. The table started bubbling and steaming. Joe let out a very high-pitched, blood-curdling scream.

" **HANK**!" Jean roared. Hank gave her an innocent look.

"You said to find something that would eat the glue." Jean vowed she was going to murder Hank McCoy.

"Something that won't hurt Joe in the process." Hank gave her an exasperated expression. 

"Well, you, Ms. Grey, should have been more specific," Hank grumbled under his breath. "Fine. I'll go get the bone saw."

Jean watched Hank skulk out of the kitchen. She smiled at Joe. So Joe screamed like a woman and would probably faint at the first sight of Magneto; that trait was not going to irritate her. So what if a guy like Scott had the coolest head she had ever seen? Scott could face down Magneto with out even breaking a sweat. Jean smiled at Joe again. She was perfectly fine with the fact that Joe's scream was higher pitched than her own. It didn't irritate her at all. It was a trait she could live with. Joe couldn't help he was a screamer.

" _Oh, crap,_ " Jean thought bitterly. He screams like a woman.

* * *

"Apparently we will not be going anywhere for a while," Warren stated dryly.

"At least the guy with the gun realizes that this isn't the bank."

"All he has to realize now is that, with the police surrounding the area, he can't tunnel into the bank," Bobby added. "We are going to be here for a very long time."

"I still have to hit the gym," the lady from behind them grumbled.

"Dude. My cult is not going to be happy about this. I, like, had to bring the new snake over tonight to, like, get ready for tonight's sacrifice."

Scott listened to the guy in the 'Satan Rules!' T-shirt ramble on and counted to ten. He was not going to do what the darker side of him was whispering. So what if the guy fit under the category "Stupid and gullible for a thousand?" Charles had taught him to be a better person. He didn't listen to that evil little voice in the back of his head anymore. So what if it was telling him it would be so easy to play with this guy's head? He wasn't going to do it. He was a better person now. Screw being a better person.

"Bobby," Scott whispered "Can you drop the temp in a room about ten degrees?"

"Sure," Bobby whispered back. "Do you have a plan?"

"Not to get us out of here — I'm still working on that one," Scott whispered. "I do have one to shut up that moron about the snake."

"I'm in," Bobby whispered gleefully. "This is going to be good isn't?"

* * *

"You are going to go down to your lab and make a solvent for that glue," Jean announced angrily to her teammate. She dangled Hank upside down in a telekinetic bubble to emphasize her point.

"I don't understand, Ms. Grey. What you are so upset about? Joe will eventually gnaw his way to freedom. Just give him a couple of weeks," Hank said cheerfully. "Besides, leaving him stuck to the table is only doing mankind a favor."

"It's your glue. You are going to get him unstuck," Jean growled.

"Sorry, just checked my Mad Biochemist Union bylaws, and they strictly prohibit any thing that might help a biochemist hating ignoramus. Sorry, against Union laws." Jean growled under her breath and counted to ten. 

"I'll leave you up there, until all the blood rushes to your head and you pass out." Hank smirked at her. 

"You tend to forget my unique physiology. I spend more time upside down walking on the ceiling than I do walking upright. That threat might work on any of the others, but not on me. Try again." Jean fought the urge to cut the blood flow to Hank's brain. 

"Why are you being so difficult about this? You have only known Joe for, what, an hour? You've spoken, what, twenty words to him?" Hank said, shrugging at her. Jean narrowed her eyes at Hank. 

"Don't make me force you to do it." Hank looked bemused. 

"I would very much like to see you try it. I know that telepathy has its limits. You can pluck all the raw data out of my head BUT you cannot analyze that data. You can't copy my thinking processes. If I had the solvent created already, that just might work, but I don't. You need my creativity with data to get that solvent made. You won't get that if you control my brain and force me. Shame on you, Red. Someone is very behind in her telepathy reading. Try again."

* * *

"Dude, have you, like, seen my snake?" The guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt asked Warren. "I, like, need to keep track of it." Bobby and Scott had long taken the snake, and Blinky, and headed towards the back of the store a while ago. Warren nodded at him. 

"The snake is in the back room, man. You know where they, like, keep all the fish tanks. My friend needed it. Something about calling up someone."

"Dude?" asked the guy, blinking at Warren. Warren had on a completely innocent expression. 

"I don't know; my friend didn't say. Let's go find out shall we? Need to keep track of the snake, dude." The guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt nodded and followed Warren towards the back of the store. Warren smirked to himself. This was going great.

When they walked into the back room, it was completely dark. The only lighting in the place was the soft multicolored glow coming from the fish tanks. Bobby had lowered the temperature in the room to the point where you could see your breath. Scott was sitting in the middle of the floor — the snake wrapped around him — in a classic yoga stance, just staring at Blinky. Blinky was standing upright on what was made to look like a makeshift altar. Blinky even looked like he had come back to life somehow. With the lighting the way it was, it looked like Blinky's eyes were glowing red. With Scott staring at Blinky and Blinky staring back. It did look like they were in some form of psychic communication. It was a creepy scene.

When Warren and the guy with the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt walked in, Scott turned to stare at them. Scott slid his glasses down his nose just enough that one could see his eyes glow. In the dim light, the whole scene looked rather impressive. Then, in a voice that could have come straight out of The Exorcist, Scott calmly spoke. 

"Leave. You are not welcome here." Warren decided right then that Scott had missed his calling — he should be on a stage somewhere. 

"Dude?" the guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt blinked at Scott and managed to choke out. Scott let his eyes glow brighter.

"Leave. I and my master are communicating." Blinky moved a little. Warren was extremely impressed. He might have fallen for this one. The guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt blinked at Scott a couple of times, and turned to Warren.

"Dude! He's in league with Satan!"

"We always suspected," Warren said dryly, trying to keep a straight face. The guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt suddenly turned and started talking to Blinky.

"Master, I'm, like, so sorry about the snake Dude! We, like, tried to get it to eat that, like, victim, but it, like, wouldn't. That's, like, why I'm here trying to get a new snake. A snake that will, like, eat people...."

"Silence!" Scott barked. "Our master is very angry with you. He is very tempted to wipe you from the earth with his dark powers."

"Dude," the guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt broke in. Scott let his eyes glow brighter.

"I said silence! Our Master is very angry with you, but he is going to give you a second chance. You are to do what I say and do it without question. Do you understand?"

"Dude," the guy with the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt said, trying to break in again.

"I said, Do you understand?" Scott barked at him once again. The guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt just nodded. 

"Excellent! You will go out front to the front of the story and wait for me to join you. You will be completely quiet, and you will tell no one of what you have seen today. Is that understood?" The guy nodded again. Scott nodded back at him. 

"Good. Go to the wait for me in the front of the store and remember you will say nothing. Take your friend. I have no further use for him." Scott handed him the snake. With that, the guy swallowed hard, nodded, and headed back towards the front of the store. Warren leaned against the doorframe with a smirk. 

"You know, when Professor Xavier made the two of you learn the reflective properties of ice and light, I just don't see him thinking you two would put it to use like that. Allow me to be the first one to say good job. I almost fell for it." Bobby popped out from where he had been hiding as the lights came on. 

"That was fun. Now that he's your unquestioning lackey, what are we going to with him?" Warren smirked at Scott. 

"Don't you ever worry exposing Bobby to your dark influences at such a young age might warp him?" Scott shrugged at Warren. 

"No ill effects so far," he mused. "I really need to find a career that allows me to play with peoples minds, souls, and ethical values or else I'm never going to be a happy and fulfilled person." Warren started chuckling at that remark.

"Have you considered law?" Scott raised an eyebrow. 

"Summers, Happily, Cheatum, and Howe? I'll have to consider changing my major."

"Well? What are we going to do with him?" Bobby asked repeating his question.

"Patience, Bobby," Scott said calmly. "I'm still working out the details on a plan to get us out of here. I need him to be a victim."

"He's going to be a victim?" Bobby asked.

"All his life," Scott said wryly, shaking his head.

"So what do we do now? We still have that stupid dense guy with the gun to deal with," Warren reminded them. Scott considered that for a moment. 

"I guess we go back to the front of the store and check on the 'stupid dense guy with the gun.' Hopefully, he hasn't figured out he can't tunnel through cement walls with the spoon I gave him just yet. Let's hope no one has tried to talk to him and confuse him, so he starts waving the gun around. I still have a couple of details to work out." When they got to the front of the pet store, the stupid dense guy with the gun was looking for them. He walked up to Scott, while holding up the spoon.

"This isn't working," the stupid dense guy with the gun said. Warren rolled his eyes.

"Apparently our robber needs additional management guidance."

"Has he tried the voices in his head?" Bobby asked innocently.

"How about the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz?" Warren retorted.

"The magic eight ball?" Bobby fired right back. Scott raised an eyebrow at both of them and shook his head.

"Remember, you two? Easily confused." Scott turned and calmly addressed their robber.

"Have you tried putting the gun down and using both hands? You dig harder and faster, then." The robber looked at Scott for a moment as if he han't comprehended what Scott was saying. Then he suddenly pulled out the gun, and pointed it at Scott.

"What type of moron do you think I am?" the robber asked. Scott whirled on Warren and Bobby, who both had their mouths open in order to say something.

"If I can't say anything, neither can you two. That's an order." Scott took a deep breath and calmly addressed the robber in the same manner he would have spoken to a five-year-old. 

"I think you're very bright. You came up with the plan to tunnel through the wall to the bank all by yourself, without any help from others, didn't you? I think you just need a little time to make a new plan. My friends and I are going to sit over by our friend with the snake over there on the shelf. That way I can watch your brilliant mind work. Is that okay? There really isn't a need to start shooting." The robber just nodded at them and gestured them towards their seats.

"I'm never going to make it to the gym," the lady who'd been in line behind them droned again for about the thousandth time.

"You know Blinky? Sometimes I think one of us must have the secondary mutant ability of idiot lure," Scott mused, as he held the dead rat up and looked him in the face.

"What's your plan?" Warren asked, rolling his eyes in the direction of their robber, who was pacing back and forth. Warren gestured his head towards the robber.

"If we wait for him to think of a way to get out of here, we are going to starve to death. I can read the headlines now. 'Warren Worthington the III dies among rats.'" Scott raised an eyebrow at Warren.

"Calm down. People will automatically jump to the conclusion that the rats are of the Wall Street variety."

Warren started chuckling to himself, "That does make me feel better."

"Bobby," Scott addressed to their youngest teammate, who was starting to nod off. Bobby jumped.

"I'm awake. What is it?"

"Do you still carry that red permanent marker that Hank uses to correct the grammar on restroom walls?"

"Yeah, I have it in my coat? Why?" Bobby asked. Scott studied the guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt for a moment before answering.

"I think I have my plan. I just need to wait for the perfect timing."

* * *

An opportunity presented itself not long after that. The dense guy with the gun was pacing up the aisles of the pet store, hitting the palm of his hand against his head and muttering, "Think. Think." Scott imagined that was a rather large order for the guy holding the gun and hoped the robber's brain didn't explode. The robber suddenly turned to Scott and announced in exasperation, "Why can't I think of another plan?" Scott wisely decided to wisely remain silent and not say what he was thinking. The robber pulled the gun out and started waving it around yelling, "Why can't I think?" Everyone in the pet store hit the floor as the robber waved the gun around erratically.

Bobby lifted his head off the floor for a moment to ask, "Hey mister? Don't you think it's not a really bright idea waving a loaded gun around like that?" Scott put his hand on the back of Bobby's head and forced him, face first, into the floor again.

"I know what I doing! Shut up!" The robber yelled at them. The robber pointed the loaded gun at his own foot as he continued to shout at everyone on the floor. That's when Scott heard a loud "BANG!" and flinched. When Scott looked up, the robber was jumping up and down while holding his foot. "Dude!" The guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt exclaimed.

Bobby looked up from the floor again. "Hey Mister? Do you want me to go get some ice to pack that toe in?"

Warren and Scott were once again sitting on the shelf. Bobby and the guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt were crawling around looking for the robber's toe. They had found it and put it in the Ziploc bag in which Bobby had been carrying Blinky. The robber was just sitting on a shelf whimpering and holding his foot, but he still was not letting them go.

"Hank is going to be so disappointed about missing this one," Warren grumbled. "I mean, if I pictured anyone crawling around on the floor looking for a human body part, it was always Hank." Scott nodded in agreement.

Bobby walked up to them; he was carrying the bag with the toe in it in front of him. Scott decided that Bobby looked a little pale. "I don't think I'm EVER going to be a doctor," Bobby, looking sickly, whispered to both of them.

Scott nodded at Bobby. "You're probably right. You just don't have the high ghoul factor in you." Scott then addressed both Bobby and the guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt. "You both did a good job."

"What do I do with it now?" Bobby asked, quietly indicating the toe.

"I want you both to take the toe into the break room. Pack it in ice," Scott answered quickly. "Warren is going to give you some money. Then you both are ordered to get anything you want out of the vending machines. And Bobby, don't worry about ruining your dinner. I'll cover for you. Sound good to you both?"

Amazingly, they both nodded yes at Scott. The guy in the 'Satan Rules!" T-shirt looked at Scott and exclaimed, "Dude, you're not going to be a bad dark master at all!" Scott smiled at him and gestured for him to get going. "Bobby wait up."

"Yeah?" Bobby asked, giving him a questioning look.

"Before you stuff both of yourselves full of junk food," Scott whispered quietly, so no one else would hear, "I want you to do me a favor. I want you to take that red permanent marker and dot the guy up a bit. Get his arms and, if he will let you, make a couple of dots on his face. I want you to make it look like he has some terrible disease. Tell him that I'm marking him to show my master how happy I am with him as my servant. Can you do that?" Bobby nodded affirmatively and started skipping down the aisle of the pet store towards the employee break room.

Warren studied Scott for a moment and asked, raising a blond eyebrow, "Are you expecting Bobby to leave another horrible trail of junk food death?"

Scott nodded at Warren and answered, "Something like that."

"I'm never going to be able to hit the gym," the lady who had been standing behind them announced out loud again to everyone in the pet store. The clerk who had been fighting with her boyfriend earlier just rolled her eyes and responded to the gym lady.

"Lady, will you just can it? You're not making it to the gym today." Scott and Warren both saw what was coming and sighed in unison. The gym lady narrowed her eyes at the clerk. 

"Listen to me. I exercise ninety-two minutes a day. I worship at the altar of exercise and Soy Shakes. Do you know why? Because my life will be twice the length of all you junk food-eating slugs, guaranteed. And you," she said, glaring at Scott, who was holding Blinky. "What are you doing with that dead rat anyway? Do you know how many diseases they carry?" Scott raised an eyebrow.

"Like you, encouraging the spread of human misery and pain. Why?" he answered back dryly. Before anyone could fire on off another comment in the lady's direction, Bobby came skipping out of the employee break room. The guy in the Satan T-shirt was following Bobby, slowly making his way down the aisle. He was muttering while clenching his stomach.

"Oh Dude. I should never have done that eighth Dew." The would-be Satan worshipper staggered to where Scott and Warren were sitting, and collapsed groaning. He was holding his stomach and curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the aisle. Bobby had done his job with the red marker. The guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt looked like he either had the Boubonic plague, or some other horrible disease. Bobby shook his head and looked at Scott, and shrugged. "I don't know what his problem is. He ate everything I did."

"Everything?" Warren choked out, looking down at the guy in horror.

"That's pretty much what I figured would happen," Scott announced dryly. The gym lady started backing up very slowly, a horrified expression on her face.

"Well," Warren said, slowly shaking his head at the guy in the "Satan Rules!" T-shirt, "I think this is a great time to make a two handed, Twinkie toast. What should we make it to?"

"They didn't have any Twinkies in the vending machine," Bobby butted in. "But I've got Ho Ho's and some more Mountain Dew." Scott raised an eyebrow.

"How about to no guarantees?" Scott responded wryly The soy shake woman continued to back up away from them and then started screaming at that remark. Right then, the robber with the gun limped over to see what all the commotion was about. He took one look at the groaning Satan T-shirt guy on the floor, dropped the gun, and ran out the door into the waiting arms of the police outside. Warren raised an eyebrow and looked at Scott. 

"Does your dark master know you use your evil powers for the forces of good?" Scott smirked at Warren.

"Don't you just love it when all the pieces of a plan fall together? Now, if you'll excuse me, Bobby take care of Blinky. I really need to make a call."

* * *

"You are going to get Joe unstuck," she said, glaring at Hank, but Hank smiled innocently and shook his head NO. That's when they both heard the phone ring. 

"I'll get it," Jean announced, glaring at Hank again as she went to answer the phone.

"Hello, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Jean speaking. May I help you?"

"Jean," said Scott's voice on the other end of the phone. "Would you mind telling the Professor that we are going to be late tonight? We got held up in the pet store. As soon as the health department cleans everything up we'll be on our way home."

"Sure," Jean responded, while still glaring at Hank. "It's not like I'm going anywhere, anyway."

"If it's a problem you can just leave a note," Scott offered.

"It's not you. McCoy and I are having a disagreement." That's when Jean swore she heard Bobby shout in the background.

"Purge you stupid snake! You aren't eating Blinky! Give him back!" Scott paused for a moment.

"Is he giving Joe a hard time? Did Hank manage somehow to chase him off?"

"Oh no," Jean announced snidely. "Hank didn't manage to chase him off. In fact Joe's still here. You could say Joe's quite stuck on hanging around." Jean heard Bobby shout in the background again.

"Come on, Warren; you're part Hawk. You can take him."

"Have you tried to appeal to his sense of ethics and fair play?" Scott asked.

"He has some?" Jean responded. "Scott is that Bobby in the background?" It was Scott's turn to sigh, and Jean could just picture him rolling his eyes.

"Yes, let's just say, Bird vs. Snake, the eternal struggle continues. The snake seems quite determined to eat that caffeine- and Twinkie-filled capsule of death. Have to tried to challenge him that he's not bright enough to do what you need him to do?"

"Yes."

"Did he pull out his Mad Bio-chemist Bylaws?"

"Yes," Jean responded once again. Scott sighed on his end of the phone.

"You have no choice then, Marvel Girl, you must pull out all the stops."

"What can I do?" Jean asked, exasperated. "I've tried everything I could think of to get him to cooperate." She heard Scott sigh again.

"I really shouldn't clue you in on this. It's something you will be able to use against my sex for the rest of your life." Jean perked up when she heard that.

"What's that?"

"It's a weapon that women have been using against men since the beginning of time. Get all teary eyed on him, and in about two minutes, Hank McCoy will be eating out of your hand. He'll do anything you ask him to do. It works on just about every man on the planet, Red." Jean smirked evilly in Hank McCoy's direction.

"I never thought of that. I'll see you when you get home Slim. I'll be sure to tell the Professor that you're going to be late."

"Thanks." Scott responded. "Listen, I have to rescue Warren. Let's just say that blue is not a becoming complexion on him. I'll see you when we get home."

* * *

"What do you mean we should say some words," Warren growled at Bobby, as he motioned his younger cohort to drop Blinky in the hole they had dug.

"I mean we just can't roll Blinky in a hole and pile dirt on him without some final words," Bobby retorted.

"Sure we can," Warren fired back. "All you have to do is drop him and I'll kick the dirt over him. We managed to get Blinky back from the snake. We got a rodent that looks like Blinky to replace him, so Hank will never know. What more do you want?" Bobby stuck his chin out stubbornly at Warren.

"He was a living creature and Hank's pet. We should acknowledge that." Scott was rubbing his head. He was working on a headache.

"All right Bobby, if you want to say a few words, just do it." Bobby bit his lip.

"I don't really think I should be the one to do it. Me being the one that killed him and all." He looked at Scott.

"Will you do it please?" Scott sighed.

"All right, I'll give the eulogy. We are going to do it Summers style, no complaints. Is everyone ready?" Warren and Bobby both nodded. So Scott began.

"Today we are gathered to chant and plant Blinky the wonder rat. The reason we're here and Hank isn't, is because the three of us are lying mutant weasels who have no intention to coming clean on what really happen to send Blinky to that great rat trap in the sky, or our parts in covering it up."

"That would pretty much cover it," Warren blurted. Bobby kicked Warren in the shin.

"Blinky was brought into our lives after an unfortunate accident in which someone dropped six roach foggers into the tank where Hank kept his giant South American Cockroaches. Hank not believing it was accident due to the trash bag and the duct tape that sealed the tank."

"Did I ever tell you you're my hero," Warren said dryly to Scott. "You're everything I want to be."

"Hank sought another pet to annoy us," Scott continued, ignored him.

"Amen, brother," Warren broke in.

"Hank brought home Blinky from a animal research lab. Hank rescued Blinky after Hank found out that the lab planned to splice his genes with a jellyfish. They planned to make Blinky glow in the dark. We will never know exactly what killed Blinky, whether the caffeine made his heart explode, or if he choked to death on the Twinkie sponge cake-like substance."

"In his passing, he raised the bar for both Hank and Bobby on their chosen form of death," Warren added in. Scott rolled his eyes at Warren and went on.

"Blinky made quite an impression in the short time he was with us. I will always hold the memory of him chewing his way through all the cereal boxes in the cabinet the one time he got loose. I'm sure Warren will equally hold dear the gifts of rat droppings that Blinky left in his bunk on several occasions. Bobby, I'm sure, will always cherish the tetanus shot that he had to get after climbing through the air duct to look for the bug-eyed little rodent. Now, we are burying Blinky; hopefully in a spot that won't contaminate the drinking water. It is with our dearest regards that we now drop Blinky the lab rat into his final resting-place. Now, let's dump him in the hole before old mad Mrs. Cooper calls the Professor again and accuses us of being body-part stealing pod people who are after her brain. Amen."

"Amen," Bobby and Warren both repeated.

* * *

"How much is it for every crack we put in this plate again?" Scott Summers asked Hank McCoy as he swung a sledgehammer back and brought it down on the blue plastic plate with all his might. The four of them were on top of the hill overlooking the school.

"I read the guarantee more carefully. The company is willing to pay two dollars for every crack you make in one of their plates."

"So, care to explain what Joe did that you hate him so much for? Really, don't you think almost spilling acid on him is overreacting just a bit?" Warren asked, as he took the sledgehammer from Scott. Warren lifted the hammer over his head and slammed it down on the plate.

"He insulted _both_ biochemistry and Twinkies. He had to be punished," Hank responded indignantly.

"Both Twinkies and biochemistry? The godless heretic should be chased from the earth," Scott responded in mock horror.

"See," Hank sneered at Warren. "Scott agrees with me. I did not overreact." Hank took the sledgehammer from Warren.

"Oh, did I mention Blinky had babies this morning?" Scott raised an eyebrow.

"No, you didn't. Congrats." Hank narrowed his eyes at the three of them as he brought the hammer down on the plate.

"Did I mention that Blinky was a boy?" Bobby offered Hank a completely innocent expression.

"You mean they can do that with drugs and gene splicing these days?" Hank handed the hammer back to Scott.

"Hey!" Bobby broke in. "It's my turn."

"If you hated him so much, why did you make the solvent that let him go?" Scott asked, ignoring Bobby's objections.

"She begged me," Hank said smugly. Scott raised an eyebrow.

"She begged you? She did the teary-eyed thing, didn't she?"

"Yes, damn you," Hank sneered at Scott. "She even managed to get me to put the garbage out, and it was her turn. I will punish whichever one of you clued her in to that trick. She now has a very powerful weapon in her arsenal. Beware."

"Does Professor Xavier know you got invited to join a cult, Scott?" Warren asked with a smirk. Scott shrugged at Warren's question.

"He's always after me to make new friends."

"It's my turn!" Bobby announced, as he snatched the sledgehammer from Scott, but he could hardly lift the thing. Swinging the sledgehammer back with all his might, he brought it down on the plate. He must have hit it at a wrong angle though, because the plate went flying into the woods. Warren slid his sunglasses down his nose to track where the plate was going.

"Oh dear," Warren muttered.

"Did we hit someone?" Scott asked.

"Nope," Warren responded. "Close though. Joe is running down the driveway, screaming."

"Gentlemen," Scott announced calmly, "We need to stop doing that. We promised the Professor."

"Jean is now marching straight up here towards us. She has a look on her face that's about as good for you as a Twinkie."

"Oh my stars and garters," Hank exclaimed. "She's going to kill us."

"She just might do the teary-eyed thing," Bobby injected.

"Either of the two possibilities is a horrifying thought," Warren added.

"I think plan A is our only option in this situation," Scott announced to his teammates. "Ready? Three, Two, **RUN**!"


	6. Hit Women, Goats, and Other Vacation Blunders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-kids in Paris — Scott rescues a goat, Bobby gets a marriage offer from a Sheik, who's subsequently shot by an incompetent hit-woman, Warren faces the angry brothers of a girl he claims he didn't date, and Jean is forced to wear a leather corsette in public — among other things.

"I will be busy putting my presentation together for the University of Paris for the morning. If you need to contact me I will be conversing with a colleague for some last minute data. I have left his name and number at the front desk. Are there any questions?" Professor Charles Xavier asked addressing his five students who stood at attention in front of him.

"No, sir," came the response from all five of his students.

"Excellent. Since we all are guests of the University, I expect you to be on your best behavior. Do I make myself very clear?"

"Yes sir," came the unified response of all his students.

"Good. Dismissed. Go enjoy yourselves, and remember I gave you all the checklist of historic sites for extra credit. If you manage to find all the landmarks you get a extra ten points added to your grades." Xavier looked straight at Bobby and Warren as he continued.

"Some of you need the extra credit. Robert, after your delightful book report on the movie version of Moby Dick and Warren's insightful midterm..." said Xavier, as he glared at Hank McCoy as he snickered in Warren's direction.

"As I was saying, the both of you really should consider taking me up on this rarely offered extra credit. All of you should consider it seriously. You never know when you might need the points. Scott, I read your written request and approved it. Hank, Warren, you two are responsible for keeping track of Bobby. Jean, that leaves you free to do the shopping you wanted to do. Are there any questions on my way out?"

"No, sir," once again came from his students. Xavier quickly grabbed a bag from the pile of luggage.

"I will see you all later, then." As his final word as he wheeled out the door, his final words drifted back, "And remember, everyone — best behavior."

"Funny," Warren grumbled, "it almost sounded like he doesn't trust us."

"Indeed" Hank agreed. "It did sound that way."

"I wonder why?" Scott said dryly. "Could it be the Hong Kong drug lord we managed to get on the wrong side of the last time he took us out of the country?"

"Spend one night treed by a tiger, and you never forgive us. You could have just blasted it," Warren grumbled, rolling his eyes at Scott.

"I could have saved myself a lot of trouble and just blasted you and Hank," Scott shot back.

"Now, I'm sure I don't want to know." Jean declared as she grabbed her purse and headed out the hotel room door.

* * *

Scott Summers was having a very good time in Paris. Professor Xavier was generously allowing him to make the seven-mile trip to the World War II battlefield. Scott really wanted to see it. Since he wasn't in a hurry, he was walking out there. He could take in some of the French countryside on the way. He was doing a report on the fall of Paris to the Nazis, and the battlefield to which he was walking had been the site of a key battle. Getting to see it would help Scott visualize the layout of the land and the mistakes that had been made during that battle, adding some depth to his paper. As an extra bonus, he didn't have to baby sit Bobby or keep Hank and Warren out of trouble. Yes, this trip was turning out to be a good one.

He was about half way there when he saw the man. He was hitting a poor goat with a rather large stick. The man was calling it all kinds of nasty names and Scott flinched every time he hit the poor goat. He was going to keep moving on his merry way when he looked over his shoulder and saw the guy hit the goat again. Sighing, Scott turned around and walked towards the man and the goat.

* * *

"This sticks," Warren grumbled in Hank's direction. "We could be hitting every club in Paris and we have to baby-sit Bobby and tour every lousy historic landmark in the city." Hank for once just nodded in agreement. "You know if we could find somewhere we could to stash Bobby for the day, we could hit the clubs."

Hank gave Warren a thoughtful look.

"What kind of clubs?" Warren smirked at him and whispered very quietly so only Hank could hear his response.

"You and I are old enough here to hit the naughty ones. I happen to know a few of them." Hank gave him a look, and Warren could tell the wheels were turning in Hank's brilliant little brain.

"Hey, guys, I think we need to take a left on the next street." Bobby yelled back at them from where he was about a hundred yards ahead. He was looking at a map. Right then Hank looked at something across the street that had caught his eye, and stopped suddenly.

"I might have an idea. Professor Xavier told us we had to keep track of him. Implying that we just need to know where he is located. You wouldn't have brought a roll of duct tape with you by chance?" Warren nodded.

"We're traveling with Bobby. Of course I brought duct tape. Amazing stuff, duct tape. It can take freezing cold and still stay sticky. You have an idea?" Hank nodded at him.

"We'll need three sheets. Let me do the talking. " Warren smirked at Hank, who Hank smirked back. That's when they both called out:

"Hey Bobby, come back here and let us take a look at that map."

* * *

"Come on, you stupid goat. Will you just move?” Scott Summers grumbled as he tugged on the goat's rope, trying to lead it.

"And to think most people bring home a miniature of the Eiffel Tower. Oh no, not me. I have to bring home a goat." When Scott had approached the man and tried to communicate with him in his very broken French, things had gone badly. Scott wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up buying the goat. It had taken almost all the money Scott had brought along with him, but now he owned the ill-tempered creature. Someday, he vowed, he'd learn to ignore the little voice that always got him in to these messes. Next time, he swore to himself that he'd just walk away and mind his own business. He looked up at the heavens and said out loud in exasperation:

"How do I get myself into these messes?"

* * *

"Did I ever tell you that you're brilliant Hank?" Warren said, smirking as he and Hank walked back into the hotel to change cloths and hit the clubs. "I'd never have thought of doing that." 

"Of course you wouldn't have," Hank said smugly. "That's why I'm the genius. The Sheik was very generous to watch our sister for the rest of the day while we attended worship don't you think?"

"Yes," Warren smirked back. "We'll have to seriously consider his marriage proposal for our sister, don't you think?" Hank and Warren were changed and just about to head out to hit the Paris clubs when Scott walked into the hotel room leading a goat. 

"Scott! I thought you weren't getting back until late tonight?" Warren asked rather nervously. Hank and he exchanged a look, hoping Slim didn't catch it.

"I had a change of plans, as you can see," Scott grumbled. "I swear, she's the most ill-tempered creature I've ever had the misfortune to come across." Warren knelt in front of the goat and started petting it gently.

"I'm not even going to ask how you managed to get it past the hotel personal, or how you managed to get her. Couldn't walk away again, huh, Slim? Does she have a name?" Scott glared at Warren.

"No, I couldn't just walk away. Her owner was abusing her. And no, I haven't given her a name yet." 

"Ill-tempered? Then have you considered 'Jeanette'?" Hank asked cheerfully, trying to keep a straight face. Scott glared back at him. 

"No," he said coldly, "But I'll be sure to mention to Jean that was the name you suggested and ask what she thinks of it." Hank just flinched. Scott tied the goat to the bedpost, then suddenly seemed to notice something and glanced around the room. His eyes finally stopped, pinning Hank and Warren.

In a mildly dealy tone, he asked, "Where's Bobby?"

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Scott Summer said as he pegged his two teammates with a cold glare (even if they coulnd't see it).

"You were told to keep track of Bobby, so the two of you tied him up, gagged him, and posed him as your little sister, then approached a foreign dignitary while pretending to be members of his religion. You said you were visiting from Spain, told him that you had no male relatives to take care of your 'sister,' and you wanted to attend worship services in which women aren't allowed. You then asked if he could look after your 'sister' along with the rest of his harem, all so the two of you could hit the strip clubs?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds a little cold," Warren said rather sheepishly.

"In our defense, he was a very nicely educated man," Hank added. "He even offered to take her off our hands with a marriage proposal because she was so quiet." Scott took a deep breath.

"I hope you two realize what I'm going to do to you before I tell the Professor about this one."

"May I make one suggestion, O Fearless? Before you proceed to trounce us both?" Hank asked a little too cheerfully.

"Anyone is allowed his final words," Scott replied.

"You may want to get your goat before Jean gets back from shopping. She bit through the rope and headed into Jean's room a while ago," Hank informed Scott rather gleefully. That's when Jean voice came roaring from down the hall.

"What the hell is a goat doing in my room? And what the hell is it doing eating my underwear!" Scott just looked at Hank and Warren who were trying to keep a straight face and whispered to them very quietly.

"I hope you both realize, I'm going to kill you very slowly?"

* * *

"Jean, I'm so sorry. I just turned my back on her for five seconds. She chewed through the rope. I'll pay for anything that she destroyed. I swear," Scott apologized as he tried to wrestle something out of the goat's mouth. He gave it a good yank and ended up sprawled several feet away on his butt. When he held up the bit of black lace and realized what it was, he started blushing.

"I think — uh. I Think this belongs to you." He handed the little bit of black lace to Jean.

"How did you guess?" Jean asked dryly, taking it.

"Somehow I can't see Hank and Warren wearing that, can you?" Scott blushed redder. It was nice to see usually cool, calm Slim flustered. But Jean still glared at Scott. 

"Would you mind telling me how the goat got in to our hotel room?" Scott looked at his feet and muttered.

"I'd rather not say." Jean tried to keep a lid on her quick temper. 

"Okay. How about her name so I can yell at her."

"Jeanette," Hank and Warren gleefully informed her from where they were standing in the doorway. Scott groaned inwardly, vowing to kill Hank and Warren at the next opportunity. Jean took a deep breath and felt her temper hit full force.

"Jeanette. I see. What the hell are you doing naming a goat after me?" Warren and Hank gave her completely innocent looks. 

"We told him he shouldn't do it, Red. In fact, we told him it was downright mean," Warren said, Hank nodding in agreement. 

"Just because you can be a little ill humored at times, a bit stubborn, that was no reason to name 'the most fouled-tempered, stubborn creature' Scott 'has ever had the misfortune to come across' after you." Jean counted to ten; yes, control was her friend, or else the three men in this room were going to die tonight. Scott suddenly pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Jean.

"Here's all the cash I have. It should be enough to replace everything 'Jeanette' destroyed. You two," said Scott, as he glared right at Hank and Warren. "... can go shopping with Jean. I'm going to go rescue Bobby. Looks like your plans for tonight are cancelled."

"We will endeavor to adapt, Fearless," Hank said cheerfully as Scott slipped the rope over Jeanette's head, and led her out of Jean's room.

"Come on, 'Jeanette,' we need to go rescue Bobby." Scott shot Hank and Warren a glare.

"I'll deal with the two of you later. Count on it." And he marched out of hotel room.

"Well," Warren added cheerfully, "that went better than I thought it would." Hank nodded in agreement. Jean gave the two of them "the look."

"What did you two do to Bobby now?" she asked coldly.

* * *

Bobby Drake was not having a good day. He was gagged and tied up with duct tape, and apparently. duct tape could take super cold and still stay sticky. He hadn't know that. Well, you learn something-new everyday. Oh, yeah — he was going to get Hank and Warren for this one. He had a sheet draped over him so it looked like he was wearing traditional Muslim woman's clothing. Hank and Warren had duct-taped his hands in such away that it looked like his hands were folded in his lap, and then they'd gagged him with the stuff and pinned some of the sheet to hide it so it looked as if Bobby were wearing a veil, and only his eyes showed. Yes, he was being a proper traditional Muslim woman, draped from head to foot and gagged so he couldn't tell anyone differently. Only the evil thoughts of what he was going to do to Hank and Warren when he got out of this were keeping him sane through the experience. And when that stopped working, visions of what Professor Xavier would do to them when Bobby snitched were even more appealing.

At least the Sheik was very nice. He'd even decided that Bobby was too young to stay with the rest of his harem, so the Sheik was looking out for Bobby personally. The Sheik was apparently visiting Paris to listen to Professor Xavier's lecture on the emergence of the mutant race. He was polite, well educated, and very religious: overall, a perfect host. Bobby supposed things could have been worse.

He was trying to draw on his natural pool of optimism, telling himself that Slim or the professor would find out where he was and rescue him, when she walked into the room. She was the most beautiful woman whom Bobby had ever seen, with long, flowing black hair, emerald-green eyes and a set of legs that would put Jean's to shame. 

" _Wow, lucky devil,_ " Bobby's mind only thought when he got a good look at her. She sauntered into the room where the Sheik was sitting by himself, and Bobby didn't hear anything for quite a while. Then the Sheik came staggering into Bobby's room, and Bobby just stared in horror at the growing red stain across the side of the man's head. As the Sheik fell at Bobby feet, the only thought came to mind.

" _Not so lucky devil._ "

* * *

"I believe I shall quote our youngest compatriot and ask, 'Are we done yet'?" Hank McCoy asked his red-headed teammate. Warren wisely remained silent as Jean turned to glare at Hank. 

"No. Now shut up, or I'm going to brain you."

"Don't listen to him, Red," Warren said. "I'm more than happy to be shopping with you. In fact, I'm more than happy to give an opinion on anything you may want to try on — including the underwear you're buying to replace what Jeanette destroyed."

"Kiss up," Hank grumbled at Warren. 

"You bet," said Warren, giving him a charming smile.

"I hate men," Jean muttered. "Using the whole male population as slave labor is looking better and better. I knew I should have listened to my parents and considered that all-girls' school."

"I am hurt, Miss Grey. You would never have had the pleasure of meeting the four of us. I'm going to win the Nobel Prize someday. Think of the bragging rights in being one of Henry McCoy's former classmates," Hank stated, blinking his eyes at her. Jean shot him a look. 

"Like I said, that all-girls' boarding school is looking better and better. What else can go wrong?" Right then a man ran up behind Jean, snatching her purse, and continuing down the street.

"Hey come back with my purse, thief!" she yelled.

"Well that was easy. Shopping trip over," Hank stated gleefully.

Jean shot him a glare even as she sprinted after the guy, calling, "My passport is in that purse."

"You know our vacations are always interesting," Warren stated looking at Hank.

"Indeed. Hopefullym I won't end up in a cobra pit again," Hank said.

"Shall we?" Warren asked.

"Indeed," Hank answered as they both started running in the same direction that Jean had.

* * *

"Will you please be quiet?" Scott grumbled down to Jeanette. "You are not making this job any easier, you know that?" The goat proceeded to ignore him and chew on the flower display in the front of the Sheik's suite.

"How do I get myself into these messes?" Scott asked, looking down at Jeanette as he gave her rope a yank. 

"Trying to sneak past hotel security was bad enough without you trying to eat every piece of shrubbery along the way." Jeanette once again proceeded to ignore him and continued eating the flower arrangement.

Glancing at the piece of paper he held, he muttered out loud, "This has to be the place." Jeanette suddenly turned her attention from the flower arrangement and snatched the piece of paper right out of Scott's hand.

"Stupid goat. I hope we're at the right room." When he tried the door, Scott found it unlocked.

"Finally. Maybe something is going my way. for a change." Scott knocked a couple of times. No answer, and he hated to do it, but after the about the tenth unanswered knock, he walked in. 

"Excuse me? Is anyone here?" It was very strange that no one was here, and Scott figured he must have the wrong suite. That's when he saw the blood leading into one of the rooms.

* * *

Jean had managed to corner her purse thief in an abandoned alley. 

"Buddy," she stated rather calmly. "You picked the wrong purse to snatch. You caught me on a really bad day."

Realizing that he had nowhere to run, the thief turned around and pulled out a knife. Jean was unimpressed. 

"Oh, look the big, bad purse thief is going to hurt me with his wittle knifie. Should I scream for help now?" She asked, rather bored. As the thief came forward. he slashed the knife in a threatening manner. Jean rolled her eyes.

"Oh, help!" she said sarcastically.

* * *

Scott followed the trail of blood into a side room. He'd left Jeanette in the hallway, and now, carefully opened the door just a crack. He saw a woman standing over a draped figure at whom she was aiming a gun. An apparently dead body lay at the draped figure's feet. 

"Bobby?" Scott blurted out. The woman turned and fired in Scott's direction. Scott leapt to the side as the bullet went buzzing by his head.

* * *

"Men are such lead heads, you know that?" Jean grumbled at her now restrained purse thief.

"I go to school with some of the biggest lead heads around. I happen to like the biggest one, did you know that? I mean what does it take for one guy to notice a girl? What do I have to do? Paint 'I like you' on my body and run naked in front of him? Instead, he named a smelly, bad-tempered goat after me. Would you mind telling me exactly what that means?" To emphasize her words, Jean shook the thief who was stuck in her telekinetic field.

"I hate men! I really can't figure them out, and I'm a telepath too." Jean glared at the guy she was holding still.

"Bet you didn't know that when you snatched my purse and tried to attack me, did you? Next time, I'd think twice before trying to attack a telekinetic." Jean just studied the guy carefully and rolled her eyes a little.

"Now what am I going to with you? I can't just let you go because of my secret identity, but I can't report you to the police for the same reason. I can't keep you in my telekinetic field indefinitely, so I guess I'm just going to have to keep you with me until you're ready to go to the police and confess without mentioning anything about me." Right then, Hank and Warren came running into the alley. Warren smirked at her.

"I guess you didn't need our help after all." Jean rolled her eyes at them.

"It was just a mugger. But I can't figure out what I'm going to do with him, now that I caught him." Right them, Hank pulled something out of his coat.

"Duct tape?"

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the X-men's hotel room, Professor Charles Xavier wheeled in and headed for the pile that was his and his students' luggage. 

"Where is it? I grabbed the wrong bag. My speech has to be in here." Then it occurred to him.

"Scott must have it. I grabbed Scott's bag by mistake. So Scott has to have my bag with the speech, slides, and data." He would have to track down Scott. Well, how difficult could that be?

* * *

Scott went running, leaped, and knocked both Bobby and himself under cover as yet another bullet went buzzing by their heads. Then ripping the sheet away, he revealed a gagged Bobby.

"This is going to hurt a lot," he warned, as he ripped off the tape.

"Ow! That hurt! But I'm so glad to see you! When she pointed that gun at me, I thought I was a goner," Bobby said as Scott sawed the duct tape off Bobby's hands with a jackknife. Another bullet whizzed past their heads from where they were hiding behind a table.

"Can you please tell me what is going on in here?" Scott asked.

"I Think the woman shooting at us just killed the Sheik. She's trying to kill us because we can identify her."

"You know," Scott grumbled. "Our vacations are always interesting." Bobby just nodded. 

"It'll be even more interesting when I get my hands on Hank and Warren for getting me in to this mess."

"On three?" Scott asked.

"Works for me," Bobby replied. Right then they both heard the "click, click" of an empty gun. 

Cursing, the woman said in French, "I'll take care of you two later." And she ran out the suite's door. Scott and Bobby just exchanged baffled looks.

"Yeah like we should be worried?" Bobby asked. Scott just nodded.

"What type of incompetent hit woman carries only one clip?" Cautiously, they moved out from behind the table.

"Is he dead?" Bobby asked, looking down at the Sheik. Scott knelt and tried to find a pulse.

"Nope, she missed. Glazed him and knocked the man out cold. Let's get out of here. I'm sure security will be coming soon. I need some time to figure things out and decide what we should do next. I, for one, don't want to try to explain what both of us are doing in the here, do you? Let's go find the others and come up with a plan. We'll call the police once we get out of here."

"That'd be a very good idea," Bobby agreed, nodding. They both ran quickly out the door, and Scott grabbed Jeanette's rope on their way.

"Come, Jeannette."

"Scott, where did you get the goat? And why did you name it after Jean?" Bobby asked.

"Please, don't ask," Scott solely reply as they ran down the hall towards the stairs.

* * *

"I think we should name him Eiffel in honor after the most renown land mark in all of Paris. What do you two think?" Hank McCoy asked gleefully as he inspected their now tied-and-gagged purse thief. The thief was fully restrained by the duct tape wrapped all over him.

"I agree with Hank. Eiffel will make a great name, don't you think. Eiffel?" Warren asked the thief. Eiffel tried to reply with something in French behind the duct tape gag.

"Temper, temper," Warren shot back at him. Jean glared at Eiffel.

"I told you. You are going nowhere until you’re ready to confess your crimes to the police. Until then, you're stuck where you are." Then she looked at Hank and Warren. 

"What am I going to do now? I can't very well drag him through the streets of Paris tied and gagged, can I?"

"I believe that Jean has a very valid point," Hank said with a thoughtful look on his face.

"I might just have an idea," Warren stated, as he headed out of the alley. "You two stay here and I'll be right back. I think I know what we can do about our little problem."

* * *

When Scott and Bobby hit the stairwell, the hit woman was waiting to take a couple more shots at them. They both jumped out of the way and her shots bounced wildly around the stairwell.

"Thought that every hit man knew you don't fire in cement stairwells," Bobby grumbled. Scott nodded.

"The bullets are just as likely to hit you as your target."

"You think she has more than one clip this time?" Bobby asked rather calmly. Scott rolled his eyes.

"I should hope so. I guess we're heading up. At least if she's chasing us, she's not checking to see if she killed the Sheik." Scott looked around for Jeanette, who was already three flights above them.

"Follow the goat," Bobby exclaimed as they both headed after Jeanette.

* * *

"You're kidding right?" Jean Grey glared at Warren rather coldly. "There is no way I'm wearing that outfit."

"Trust me on this one, Jean," said Warren, looking at her earnestly. "Wearing this outfit, no one is even going to blink at you leading around a tied and gagged man by a dog collar."

"Did you bring a whip, too?" Jean asked coldly.

"I hope so," Hank said, trying very hard to keep a straight face. "It would be the only accessory to complement that outfit... or maybe a handcuff belt. But that defiantly shouts 'cat-o-nine tails' to me. Warren's right, though; no one is going to think twice."

"I think you picked this to see what I'd look like as an S&M cover-girl-of-the-month," Jean stated, glaring at both her male teammates.

"Look," Warren said coldly. "I chose one to the few corsettes that would cover everything. Do you want to just let Eiffel go? Think of the next poor woman he may attack; she might not be so lucky."

"You don't play fair, Warren." complained Jean, glared at him.

"I think Jean was wearing that outfit in a dream I had a few nights back," Hank said aloud, ignoring the ongoing argument.

"Shut up, Hank," Warren grumbled, then to Jean.

"Look, the choice is up to you. You can always telepathically manipulate the crowds so no one will notice."

"That's too hard for me. Give me the damned outfit," Jean grumbled as she snatched the black leather number out of Warren's hands.

* * *

Scott and Bobby hit the roof with the hit woman just a few flights behind. She'd missed them the whole way up twenty-something flights of stairs and Bobby looked down at the ground.

"You wouldn't have a rope in your backpack would you?" he asked Scott. Scott nodded as he unslung his backpack and opened it. Then he got a very strange look on his face.

"What is it?" Bobby asked.

"Apparently, I have Professor Xavier's speech. He grabbed the wrong bag this morning. I have his... and he has mine. With the rope," Scott stated quite calmly. He glared at Jeanette, who'd taken notice now of the paper in the backpack.

"Don't you even think about it."

"Well, that's not good," Bobby announced. "Do you think she'll manage to kill us at point blank range?"

"I don't know. She didn't manage to kill the Sheik; I think our odds are really good." Right then, the hit woman who'd been chasing them slammed open the roof door. Bobby looked at Scott.

"Should we try the fire escape?" he asked. Scott nodded as a bullet went whizzing by his head.

"I could also try to make the roof icy?" Bobby suggested, and Scott nodded once again in response.

"I have you both now," the hit woman said in broken English. Scott and Bobby both put their hands over their heads and turned to face her as she pointed the gun at them. At the same time, Bobby concentrated on spreading ice all over the roof and under their feet.

"On three, Bobby," Scott stated quietly. Right then Jeanette head butted the hit woman, who went sliding on the ice... and right off the roof. Bobby and Scott carefully ran to the edge to look down.

"You think we killed her?" Bobby asked quietly, stunned. Out of a dumpster in the alley below came some very loud French cursing. Scott shook his head.

"Apparently not. And I don't think what she's suggesting is even anatomically possible." Bobby looked around the roof. 

"Scott? Jeanette and Professor Xavier's backpack are both gone."

"After that goat," Scott replied.

* * *

"Not one word you two. I swear, I'll kill you both," Jean Grey stated as she walked out of the shadows in the low-cut, tight-fitting leather number that Warren had bought for her. 

"Oh, you remembered the handcuff belt and the whip." Hank announced gleefully. 

"It's not that bad, Red, honestly," Warren added. "It just shows off a bit of cleavage. I've seen worse. Trust me, no one is going to think twice about Eiffel being tied and gagged." 

"I said, not one word." Jean glared at them both. 

"Beat me, Mistress Grey, and make it hurt so good," Hank begged cheerfully. Warren stepped between Jean and Hank as Jean made a threatening stepped forward.

"Hank," he warned.

"I think the spiked dog collar for Eiffel really pulls the outfit together," Hank continued, but Jean just glared and cracked her whip. Right then all three watched as Scott and Bobby ran past the alley, chasing Jeanette. A few moments later they saw a woman waving a gun, covered in garbage, screaming for Scott and Bobby to stand still so she could kill them. 

"Our vacations are always interesting," Warren stated dryly. 

"Are you four just trouble magnets?" Jean asked. 

"Only sometimes. After that goat!" Hank announced cheerfully.

* * *

"Okay, which way could they have gone?" Jean asked, looking down four diverging roads. 

"This is Eiffel's fault," Hank grumbled. "He slowed us down so we lost Scott and Bobby." Eiffel gave Hank a muffled reply behind his duct-tape gag.

"Temper Temper," Hank warned cheerfully. 

"Well, you try to keep up with two guys while wearing three-inch heels," Jean grumbled to her teammates. 

"Does anyone know where we are?" Warren asked glancing around the street that the three of them stood on now. 

"I thought you knew Paris 'like the back of your hand'?" Hank asked giving Warren an annoyed look. 

"More like he knows Paris like the back of his head," Jean muttered.

"Oh, Miss Grey, that was a good one," Hank said, then, "Look, Jean, you're only getting a few shocked glances. Oh, wait, that gentleman over there is wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth." 

"How polite of him," Jean snarled, glaring at Hank. 

"Will you two calm down?" Warren broke in. "I do know Paris. My mother comes here shopping all the time." That's when a voice came from behind them.

"Worthington! We need to talk to you!"

"Oh, no," Warren groaned, "What are those morons doing in Paris?"

* * *

"Jeanette only ate the first three pages of Professor Xavier's speech. He has a photographic memory so that shouldn't be a problem for him right? I mean, she didn't get a hold of the data, and she just drooled on the slides a little?" Scott asked looking at his youngest teammate for reassurance. Bobby's reply was muffled as he stuffed another hotdog into his mouth and washed it down with his third soda. 

"Thanks a lot, Bobby," Scott grumbled as he crinkled his nose at the hotdog Bobby was offering to share. "No, thanks. How can you eat those things after all the stories Hank told you about how they're made? We're surrounded by some of the best restaurants in the world, and you head straight to the hotdog vender." 

"Well, we couldn't find a McDonalds," Bobby retorted. "I think someone hasn't eaten today and his blood sugar is low, so he's being really cranky." Bobby pulled a package of snowballs out of his pocket and offered one to Scott. 

"Snowball?" Scott glared at Bobby.

"I am not being cranky." Bobby shrugged and stuffed a snowball whole into his mouth.

"I swear with the way you eat you must have a hollow head." Bobby shrugged again and gave him a grin.

"Nope, you’re not the least bit cranky. You think we lost her for the time being?" Scott nodded.

"On that last intersection over by the church." 

"That reminds me," Bobby announced as he pulled something out of his pocket and put a checkmark by three locations on his list.

"I only need to find one more place for my extra credit. See? Getting chased through the Paris streets by a crazy hit woman does have its advantages. I've found most of the landmarks Professor Xavier listed." Then Bobby's face lit up with a mischievous expression. 

"At least I won’t get in to trouble for letting a goat eat his speech." 

"Stuff it, Bobby," Scott announced coldly. Right then, they both saw the hit woman running across the park. She was running straight in their direction. Scott sighed.

"Here we go again."

"Oh look, she took time to clean up before she tries to kill us again. You think she got more ammo, too?"

"Probably." Scott rolled his eyes as she ran towards them, screaming something in French.

"We know!" both Bobby and Scott shouted at once, rather dryly. "You're going to kill us!"

"Well," Bobby added as they stood up, ready to run again, "I'm done eating. I have one more landmark to find. Ready for round three?"

* * *

"Listen to me, you three stupid morons. I never dated your sister. I don’t like your sister. I never did anything more with your sister than file a restraining order against her." Warren glared at the three huge men standing in front of them. 

"Let me see," Hank announced. "Human-like appearance, ape-like brain. I wonder how many water towers these three fell out of onto their heads?"

"Is your friend making fun of us, Worthington?"

"I wouldn't even think of it, my dear chaps," Hank announced, then turned in Jean's direction and mouthed. 'missing link.'

"Look," Warren jumped in, "this is some huge misunderstanding. I don't know what your sister may have told you three, but trust me, it didn't happen. I filed a restraining order against her so she would stop stalking me — isn't that enough?"

"Not from the country they're from. Alabama perhaps?" Hank suggested. 

"We're from Georgia, buddy." 

"I stand corrected." 

"Worthington, you dumped our sister and destroyed her honor, and we can't allow that to slide." 

"I never dated you sister, so how could I dump her and destroy her honor?" Warren retorted. 

"Are we seeing the real reason why you transferred to our institution?" Hank asked. 

"I see you dropped our sister for this red-headed slut," One of the brothers added, inspecting Jean rather closely. 

"Watch it, buddy. I have a whip," Jean warned him with a cold glare. 

"I have a really easy way to settle this, Worthington." The brother who appeared to be the oldest said, looking straight at Warren. 

"I'd love to hear it. That way, your entire crazy inbred family would leave me alone." 

"We just beat the crap out of you and mess up your profile a bit, then you won't hear from us ever again. Besides, we don't want you near our sister if you date women like her." He gestured to Jean in her black-leather outfit. 

"What do you mean 'a woman like her?'" Jean asked now, narrowing her eyes dangerously. The big man ignored her.

"You know, we'd pretty much given up looking for you since you transferred out of school. We were just shopping here in Paris with Mom and Lord, and behold, there you were, running down the street." 

"Really," Hank added. "What type of barbarians are you? Messing up a perfect profile like that." Hank gestured to Warren, then looked at Jean "What shall we do? Warren's the pretty one." Jean glanced at Hank, amused.

"I thought I was the pretty one?"

"Nope — you’re the hot-headed one," Hank announced. 

"Be quiet, you two," Warren said, then to the boys. "Well, isn't today my lucky day. We happened to find each other here in Paris, so we can settle this once and for all. I'm not going to let you three mess up my face for something I didn't do." 

"That's why Momma McCoy always told me never to date stupid people. The genes always breed true," Hank told Jean solemnly. 

"Look," Jean said. "Could we settle this later? We have two friends who someone is trying to kill." 

"What type of idiots do you think we are?" one of the brothers said defensively. 

"Do you really want to know?" Hank asked. 

"Worthington, do you always let your woman speak for you? Why don't you do something constructive with that mouth, sweetheart, and come lay a big, wet one right here?" One of the brothers motioned to his lips. Jean blinked. Then she got "that" look on her face. Handing Eiffel's leash to Hank, she threw her hair over her shoulder.

"Why don't I show you boys some moves that will rock your world?" Hank and Warren just exchanged the "you think she's going to kill him?" look. 

"That sounds like a really good idea, sweetheart," the brother said, shooting Jean a leer. Jean walked towards them, and Hank wondered if they were going to have three bodies to hide.

* * *

Professor Charles Xavier was being driven around the streets of Paris trying to locate his students. Attempting to track them telepathically had drained him rather quickly, so he was doing it the old-fashion way. And he wasn't having much luck at it, either, having only managed to follow where his students' telepathic signatures had been. Now, he rubbed his head; he was getting a huge headache.

"I could have had tenure at Oxford," He muttered out loud to himself. "What part of 'best behavior' didn't they understand?" His driver gave him a pitting look in the rearview mirror. That's when he sensed three telepathic signatures coming right at them.

"Driver, stop the car right now!" The driver slammed on the brakes, just as a trash can containing three young men came rolling into the middle of the intersection, right in front of the car.

* * *

"Well, if you'd asked me I would have said that it was physically impossible to stuff three men that size into one trash can," Hank said. "Isn't it amazing what you learn new everyday." 

"Don't you think rolling the three of them into oncoming traffic was — how do I say it — a little extreme?" Warren asked a bit sheepishly. 

"No," Jean replied. 

"I think all we need is for Jean to develop her powers a little more, and the four of us can retire from the superhero business. She can use that outfit to distract criminals, then trounce them,." Hank added cheerfully. 

"Shut up, Hank." Jean warned. "Or there's a trash can with your name on it." Right then, Eiffel tried to say something behind his gag. Jean ripped the duct tape away, and Hank and Warren both flinched.

"Are you ready to go to the police and confess?" Jean asked Eiffel. Eiffel said something in French, after which Jean just gave him a cold look and put another gag on him.

"I told you; you're not going anywhere until you’re ready to confess to your crimes." 

"Well, should we go find Scott and Bobby?" Hank asked, changing the topic.

* * *

"You know," Scott said to Bobby dryly. "We could shut her down in about five seconds if we just used our mutant powers." 

"What's the fun in that? Think of all the exotic places we've seen when we don't use our mutant powers to get ourselves out of messes. Remember 'mutant powers should be means of last resort,'" Bobby responded cheerfully. "Now, where could that landmark be?"

"Exotic places? The last time we got into trouble and couldn't use our mutant powers, I got treed by a tiger, then had to pull Hank out of a cobra pit." Scott shot an exasperated look at Bobby. 

"So?" Bobby responded. "You raised the bar for the rest of us. I didn't know you could whip a snake's head off like that until you did it." 

"It's all in the angle," Scott replied dryly. 

"Where do you think she went?" Bobby asked, looking around as they jogged. 

"I honestly don't know. I think we lost her at the last intersection," Scott responded. "For how long, I have no idea." Scott gave Bobby an annoyed glance. 

"Would you mind telling me your secret? Jeanette never followed me around like that." 

"I shared one of my hotdogs with her," Bobby explained. 

"You gave her one of your hotdogs? Do you know what those things do to you, much less her?" Scott asked, giving Bobby a shocked look. 

"She likes them," Bobby said, sticking his tongue out at Scott. "Are you going to help me find my last landmark or not?"

"Give me the map, and I'll see if I can find it." Right then, a car tore around the corner and headed straight for them. They both recognized the driver.

"You know, I really do have to give her an A-plus for effort," Scott said. 

"That's no fair, using a car like that. It's against our unspoken rules," Bobby announced. 

"I think we should probably dive out of the way," Scott said as the speeding car bore down on them. 

"Nah," Bobby responded, "I can do something." 

"Bobby, don't," Scott warned. Scott knew he shouted a little too late as a thin sheet of ice formed across the road. The car went sliding out of control and right in to a roadside fruit stand. Scott flinched as six more cars hit the ice, too, and ended up in a huge pile up. The road was completely blocked by cars now, and it was turning into a traffic nightmare, though thankfully, no one was badly hurt. All the drivers got out of their cars and started inspecting the damage, while the hit woman got out of hers and vanished into the gathering crowd. 

"Whoops," Bobby said sheepishly, looking around. "I don't think Professor Xavier is going to be very happy when he hears about this." 

"Remember, Bobby — 'means of last resort?"

* * *

"Well, Scott and Bobby were both here," Warren stated, looking at the icy road, the pile up, and the traffic jam that was extending for miles. 

"What clued you in, Warren?" Jean asked dryly. 

"I don't know — the icy road shout 'Bobby' to me. I really can't say why."

"This is not fair," Hank grumbled. "If they were planning on doing far-spread chaos and destruction, they should have waited for us. I didn't get a chance to do any last time, being in the hospital with snakebite. I feel cheated." 

"What trouble did you four get into in Hong Kong, anyway?" Jean asked, looking at her teammates. 

"We, uh, blew up a fireworks warehouse," Warren confessed. 

"Fireworks... explosives... " Hank said, looking at Warren. "Hello! You didn't wait for me!"

"Sorry. Next time, if we plan to accidentally blow something up, we'll make sure we have our resident mad scientists is with us. Jeez, you'd think blowing up the basement every other day, explosions would be boring to you by now." 

"Let's try to get out of Paris without blowing anything up," Jean said, shaking her head at her two teammates. "Let's just find Scott and Bobby before they manage to get themselves into more trouble."

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir." Xavier's driver said. "Apparently, traffic is piled up for miles. The radio says it's die to an icy road." The driver gave Xavier a confused look in the rearview mirror. 

"That's has to be wrong, considering it's July. I'm afraid we are going to be sitting in traffic for a while."

"Yes," Xavier stated dryly. "The radio must have the information confused. What could possibly make a road icy in July?"

Under his breath, Xavier grumbled, "Robert."

* * *

Jean, Warren, Hank, and Eiffel managed to catch sight of Scott and Bobby about six blocks from the 'accident' site. 

"I'm telling you, Bobby, that last landmark isn't on the map. Professor Xavier must have written this list without looking at the tourist maps, because it's not on it," Scott was saying. 

"I need that extra credit, so we're going to find it," Bobby announced, sticking out his chin stubbornly. 

"Well, if you'd actually read the book, you wouldn't be in this mess right now, would you?"

"Don't rub it in," Bobby grumbled.

"Well," said a new voice behind them, "It's nice to see you two are all right. Do you realize how hard it was to find you?" Neither Scott nor Bobby looked up at Jean from where they were studying the map. 

"Of course we're all right," Bobby said, "It was just a hit woman — no big deal. It's not like she's Magneto. We're trying to find the last landmark for my extra credit." Bobby looked up then and gaped at Jean's outfit. 

"Jean?" Catching the shock in Bobby's voice, Scott looked up, too, and Jean suspected that if his eyes weren't covered, she'd see him gaping, too. His mouth hung open. 

"Jean?" Jean gave him a cold look back

"Yes?" Scott’s eyebrow went up as he got control over his surprise. 

"I hope they included a whip with that outfit. Who's your friend?" He added dryly, as he gestured in Eiffel's direction. Jean blinked. 

"Did he just crack a joke?"

"Indeed, a whip was included," Hank said. "She has it on her somewhere." 

"You mean she can hide stuff in that outfit?" Bobby blurted. 

"Our dear friend, Eiffel," Hank continued. "... tried to steal Jean's purse, and when she chased him, he pulled a knife on her. He's going to be our guest until he sees the error of his ways and is willing to confess his crimes to the police." Scott's eyebrow went a little further up his forehead. 

"If he doesn't confess?" Hank shrugged.

"I need a human subject for my gene splicing experiments. We can keep him down in the basement lab." Eiffel gave Hank a horrified look. Scott raised the eyebrow even further, and Jean suddenly reached two major conclusions. One — Scott Summers most definitely did have a sense of humor. And two — the guys were going to have quite a bit of fun tormenting Eiffel. 

"What about those pesky things called 'ethics'?" Scott asked

"Blah, Blah," Hank replied. "What's one life to further science?"

"Does this mean he has a live subject now so we won't have to go dig up anymore bodies in the middle of the night?" Bobby asked, getting into the fun. 

"I hope so," Warren said, dead-panning. "Gruesome task." Eiffel was looking at all of them as if they were monsters, and Jean was almost buying it herself. Then again, had she ever been down in Hank's lab? Warren gave Bobby an innocent look.

"Hey, not all Hank does is evil and horrible. I happen to like my new set of wings." Now, Jean knew for sure they were tormenting Eiffel. 

"I think I'll splice his genes with a tree squirrel. What do you think?" Hank asked with an innocent, thoughtful expression on his face. 

"No, you should cross him with a bat," Bobby suggested gleefully. 

"That's a very interesting thought, Robert. I will have to consider it." And Hank nodded to Bobby. 

"I think we're all missing the point of who's going to take care of him," Scott pointed out. "Look at what Hank does to his rats. How long do you think Eiffel is going to survive?"

"Long enough to make him 'Batman'?" Bobby asked. 

"By the way," Warren broke in, "where's this woman who was trying to kill the two of you?" Scott shrugged.

"I think we lost her about three blocks from here — why?"

"You know, if we could capture her, I'd have a breeding pair for my experiments," Hank said thoughtfully. Eiffel gave Hank another horrified look. 

"Did anyone notice the flower vender heading this way?" Warren asked. 

"Yes," Scott said. "It's not our hit woman, but he's looking nervous." 

"Maybe it's Jean in that outfit," Hank said. "It's enough to make any man nervous." Jean glared. 

"Stuff it, Hank. I warned you about that trash can with your name on it." Right then, the flower vender approached.

"Excuse me?" he said in broken English. "I have a bouquet of flowers for the two young gentlemen." He motioned towards Scott and Bobby. 

"Of course we will take them, my good man. How much do we owe you?" Hank asked. 

"Nothing. They have already been paid for." The vender nervously threw the bouquet to Bobby and started running away as quickly as he could. 

"Is it me, or is that gentleman in a big hurry to leave?" Hank asked looking at Bobby's bouquet. 

"Does anyone else hear the sound of a electronic timer?" Scott asked dryly. 

"This is really insulting. What kind of amateurs does she think we are?" Bobby said, as Eiffel was giving them all a panicked look and trying to run away. Warren did a quick scan using his eagle-like vision.

"Hank, how much time do we have on the timer?"

"Sixty seconds." Hank announced calmly. 

"Really a man should give flowers to a woman, not the other way around," Warren smirked. 

"Indeed. Couldn't agree with you more. We really should give these flowers back to her," Hank responded. 

"Two hundred yards to the left," Warren announced, and Hank angled the bouquet. "A little more to the left... bingo!" Hank let the bouquet fly. 

"You know you guys are rather comfortable with the idea of a woman trying to kill you," Jean commented as she watched the flower bouquet fly over a small park. 

"Hang out with Warren and his exes long enough," Bobby added in cheerfully. A loud explosion came from across the park. Everyone just stood and watched as what looked to be a bronze, decorative plate landed at their feet among the other wreckage; Jeanette, who was sitting next to them, chewing on the grass, never even blinked. 

"Oh, dear," Hank announced rather sheepishly. "She must have thrown it into the memorial." 

"Well, no one was hurt," Warren said, "though Professor Xavier is not going to be happy about this. I knew we left too much time on that timer." 

"Do you guys make it a point to take only pictures and leave only ashes?" Jean asked quite seriously. Eiffel looked like he wanted to pass out. 

"You know — I think that was the landmark I still had to find. World War II Memorial." Bobby looked down at the bronze plaque. "That was it all right. Let's see, built in ... " Bobby glanced at his list, then at Scott. "Professor Xavier wants to know when the building was bombed. You think he'll take today's time and date as an answer?"

"I think he meant by the Nazis, Bobby."

* * *

"How far are we from the hotel?" Jean asked her four teammates. 

"We're in the club district now," Warren informed her. "It's really close to the hotels. Probably about two blocks — why?"

"I want to get out of these shoes. I'm getting blisters." Jean turned to Scott. "What are you going to do with Jeanette? She's not staying in my room." 

Before Scott could answer, a voice rang out, "Worthington!" Warren just groaned. 

"Not these idiots again. I thought we got rid of them when Jean rolled them into oncoming traffic." 

"I thought a seasoned pro like you knew better than to date stupid bimbos with older brothers?" Bobby asked gleefully. 

"Shut up, Bobby," Warren growled. 

"Those idiots really don't take a hint, do they?" Jean announced, rather annoyed. 

"Let's just avoid them." Scott picked up his pace. "We can stay ahead of them." But right then, the hit woman jumped out of an alley about a hundred yards ahead. She said something in French and started waving a gun at them. Scott stopped.

"Then again, maybe not. Change of plan. We'll duck into a club and try to lose them."

* * *

"You know, hanging out with you four, I see the classiest places," Jean said dryly as she inspected the club they'd ducked into. "I mean, the pool of chocolate pudding adds something to the place that you just can't find in a four-star hotel." 

"Well think of it this way, Red." Warren looked pointedly at her outfit. "You fit right in." 

"I feel downright underdressed without a dog collar on," Hank added, looking around the place. "Is this one of the clubs you were planning to take me?"

"I didn't even know this one existed. Scott has the devil's luck sometimes," Warren added with a growing smirk on his face. Two women with very little clothing on were jumping into the pool of chocolate pudding. 

"Men!" Jean muttered with disgust, rolling her eyes. 

"Look, everyone calm down," Scott said. "I'm going to do some scouting around and see if we lost them. Everyone just stay calm and stay out of trouble." He handed Bobby Jeanette's rope and vanished into the crowd. 

"Well," Jean began, as he looked around. "Since we're under orders to stay put anyway, explain to me what you see in two barely dressed woman rolling around in pudding." 

"What?" Warren and Hank both snapped their attention back to Jean. 

"Two woman rolling around in pudding? What's so great about it?"

"I will try to explain it to you, Miss Grey," Hank answered. "If you explain to me what women see in Jane Austin novels. I appreciate many forms of literature, but I have never understood what a woman sees in Jane Austin." Jean opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again. 

"Maybe these are secrets that are best left unknown to the other half of the species." 

"Those were my thoughts exactly," Hank replied seriously. 

"Hey, Bobby, isn't that the woman who was trying to kill you?" Warren asked, nudging Bobby. 

"That's her, all right. She looks like she's targeting someone," Bobby said. 

"She has Scott in her sights!" Jean said after a quick scan. "Scott doesn't know she's there." Jean tossed Eiffel's rope to Bobby. "Take care of him while I take care of her!"

"I got him." Bobby announced as Jean took off towards the pool of pudding at a run. Right then Jeanette gave her rope a yank, and it flew out of Bobby's hands. Jeanette ran after Jean. "Jeanette come back!" Bobby yelled, following the goat and dragging Eiffel along with him. 

"Did I tell you our vacations are always interesting?" Warren asked Hank dryly. 

"Indeed. After that goat!"

* * *

"Where did she go?" Jean grumbled to herself. She'd had the woman in her sights before, but then the woman had vanished into the crowd again. Jean quickly scanned the crowd, but caught no sign of where she could have gone. But scanning the crowd again, Jean saw her. She still had her sights on Scott, and Jean knew she was never going to be able to warn him or get to the hit woman in time.

* * *

"Where could Bobby have gone? I mean, a young kid dragging a man around by a dog collar while chasing a goat shouldn't be that difficult to find even in this crowd," Warren grumbled. 

"I don't know where he could have gone," Hank announced. 

That's when a very familiar voice rang out, "Worthington!"

"I thought we lost those morons." Warren grumbled. 

"Apparently not. They're really starting to annoy me, Warren," Hank said softly. 

"We find Bobby first, then we trounce them," Warren replied. 

"Deal. Let's head towards the stage."

* * *

Jean was about to shout a verbal and telepathic warning in Scott's direction when Jeanette came running down the center isle at full speed and head-butted the hit woman straight into the pudding before she could take her shot. Jean blinked at Jeanette, who just sat down and blinked at the hit woman, who was cursing Jeanette quite colorfully in French. Jean looked at Jeanette, who looked right back.

"Always send a woman, right Jeanette?" Jean asked the goat, who seemed to nodd back at her. Meanwhile, the crowd was cheering loudly, and Jean jumped into the pudding pool after the hit woman.

* * *

"Is that Jean in there, decking it out with our hit woman?" Warren asked, coming to a complete stop on his and Hank's way to the stage. Hank blinked, and then nodded.

"Two woman in an all-out cat fight in a pool of chocolate pudding. I think I had a very dirty dream about that once." 

"You know, Hank, there are some things I just don't want to know," Warren responded dryly. "That's our Jean alright. Ouch! She'd getting downright vicious."

"I think we should take note. Woman are the deadlier of the species," Hank chuckled. Jean hit the woman hard again, and Warren flinched as the crowd let out another loud cheer.

"I'm just thankful she isn't taking that mood out on us." 

"Worthington!" The annoying voice again. 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Warren asked Hank. 

"Indeed I am. We can't let Jeannie have all the fun, now can we?" Hank responded with an evil grin.

* * *

Jean grabbed the hit woman's long hair and hit her yet again, and the hit woman went down this time and didn't get back up. The crowd went wild. Jean just threw her pudding-coated hair over her shoulder and staggered to the edge of the pool. 

"Never send a man to do a woman's work," she grumbled to herself. Scott was at the edge of the pool, looking at her.

"Are you all right?" Jean nodded to him. Right then, one of the three brothers who'd been bothering them came sailing out of the crowd to land, face-first, in the pudding.

"Oh, no. Please, no." She heard Scott groan as Hank and Warren tackled the other two, knocking them into the pudding pool after their brother. The crowd once again went wild. Bobby appeared at the edge of the pool with Eiffel. 

"Get 'em, guys!" he shouted to Hank and Warren.

"Why me?" Scott sighed and muttered. Then, he took off his backpack and jumped in next to Jean to go help Hank and Warren. Jean and Bobby were so involved in what was going on in the center of the pool. They never noticed Jeanette eyeing the backpack.

* * *

Scott hit his opponent hard, and the big man went face down into the pudding. He didn't get up again. Hank's was the next one to go down, and Warren's went down last. That's when the voice rang out through the crowd, sending Scott's blood cold. He could tell it had the same effect on Hank and Warren. 

"Would you all mind telling me what is the meaning of all this? And why is that goat eating my speech?!" Charles Xavier demanded from his seat in his chair at the edge of the great vat of pudding. The crowd went deathly silent. 

"Oh, boy," Hank and Warren both said.

"Sir, we can explain," Jean said. That's when Scott noticed Jeanette up on the edge of the pool. She'd managed to get Professor Xavier's speech out of his backpack and was eating it. She'd even managed to dip it in the pudding for flavor. Bobby was wisely staying quiet. 

Scott looked around. Bobby still held Eiffel, tied and gagged by a dog collar and leash. Hank and Warren were covered in pudding from decking it out with the three brothers, and were in the middle of the ring. Jean was dressed as a cover model for S&M monthly and was covered in pudding from head to toe. And Jeanette was eating both the speech and the data that Professor Xavier had to present in the morning. This looked very bad. But Bobby pulled his extra-credit sheet out of his pocket and handed it to Professor Xavier. Scott wondered to himself why he had to be born so "lucky," as Professor Xavier started reading the list.

* * *

Jean had just managed to shampoo the last of the pudding out of her hair and put a robe on when there was a knock at her hotel room door.

"Come in," she called.The door opened and Scott stood there, looking a little uncomfortable and holding a couple packages. He seemed unsure if he should come in or not, and cleared his throat.

"I can come back later. When you're dressed. If you prefer." Jean shook her head.

"Come in, Scott — though I thought we were all under house arrest until Professor Xavier decided what he's going to do with us?"

"We are. I snuck out. I wanted to drop this off for you." Jean noticed he had a bucket of ice and a couple packages in one hand, and a bag in the other.

"I figured you could use some ice for the shiner and some Band-Aids for the blisters."

"What's in the bag?" Jean asked. Scott cleared his throat.

"An apology. I figured I owed you one for Jeanette, and for sending Hank and Warren shopping with you." Scott handed her the bag. 

"I hope you don't get mad. I mean, I didn't know your size to replace what Jeanette destroyed, so I picked up something else. I hope you like it. I don't know if it's appropriate... " Jean snatched the bag from out of Scott hands. Inside of one box was assortment of French pastries. Jean just smirked.

"Please tell me that there isn't any chocolate pudding in the middle of these?" Scott shook his head.

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to see any chocolate pudding for a very long time. Some day, I may even be able to eat the stuff again." Jean smiled and chuckled in agreement.

"So how is the sixth member of our team doing?" she asked, as she opened the next box. Scott smiled. 

"Jeanette is being retired to a beautiful country estate that a friend of Professor Xavier owns. There, she'll live out the rest of her days in peace, officially retired from the superhero business."

"Well that's great news. Eiffel had us drop him off at the nearest police station. I think he confessed to every crime he ever committed. I honestly don't know what to think about the fact he wanted to get away from us that badly. He even told Professor Xavier he was looking forward to the quiet jail would offer. Then he begged Professor Xavier never to release us on society." Jean had finally gotten the last package open. Inside was a beautiful emerald green silk robe. She was completely speechless. Scott interpreted her silence as a bad sign, and started blushing. 

"I know it's not appropriate, and you probably don't like it. I didn't mean anything by it; you don't have to wear it. I just thought I should replace what Jeanette destroyed with something, that's all, but I didn't know your size, and... "

"It's gorgeous." Jean held up the robe so she could see the whole thing.

"I love the color! But I can't accept this. I mean, it's just too expensive." But when she lowered the robe to see Scott, he was gone. The ice was on the floor. The Band-Aids and ointment for her blistered feet were on the bed. But Scott was nowhere to be seen.


	7. Midnight Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our beloved group of teenagers go to Egypt to investigate an archeological dig that may have ties to mutant during ancient time. It's a good thing the X-Men encounter anything bad from Egypt, right?

"Are we there yet?" Bobby Drake whined for about the thousandth time. Scott Summers just sighed. Hank McCoy rolled his eyes. Warren chuckled humorlessly to himself and Jean was going to start losing her temper.

"NO!" Was the reply that quickly came from all his teammates.

"Robert, we are heading towards a archeological dig. Does it look like were anywhere near the dig to you? Trust me no one wants to get there as badly as I do. Oh Fearless, I believe my camel is plotting to try to eat me." Hank McCoy grumbled in Scott's direction.

"It’s a camel, Hank," Scott replied gently. "It hates everyone. Besides it just wants a chance to spit on you."

Warren laughed "Yours is being surprising good, Scott. Mind sharing your secret?" Scott wasn't riding his camel preferring to walk. However his camel was following Scott around like a puppy dog and hadn't even spit on him once. Scott looked at him, his eyes glowing under the turban he was wearing and shrugged.

"We came to an understanding that's all."

"I hate camels, and I really hate the dessert," Bobby grumbled out loud. "Too hot." Warren was personally agreeing with him but for different reasons. The deserts of the America have at least something growing in them, cactus, something; but here in the Egyptian desert there was nothing but sand. Not even a high hill or bluff to break the terrain. 

That part bothered Warren. The bird in him always instinctively wanted to scout from the high ground. Being on the ground in open flat terrain just went against every instinct Warren processed. He had to remind himself they were going incognito, that they did not want to be seen. It still didn't stop Warren from wanting to throwing off his desert robes and spreading his wings up towards the sky. Something just didn't feel right about this desert. Like there was more out there than they imagined, and none of it good. Warren used his eagle vision to do a quick scan of the area. Nothing he could see for miles. That still didn't make him feel better. 

"Something bothering you, Warren?" Scott asked quietly so none of the others could hear him. Warren blinked in surprise he thought he had been hiding his edginess rather well or at only letting it show when no one was looking.

"No. Why?" he lied.

"Your back is puffing up a little, that's all. Your wings always puff out a little bit when something is bothering you. Besides, you keep looking around like you're expecting to see something," Scott informed him quietly in a voice that didn't rise above Bobby's chatter. Warren took note to watch his wings more carefully. Someone could use that against him in the boardroom some day.

Warren sighed, "Do you see anything?" Scott's eyes may not be able to see farther than Warren's but they saw things just as well in other ways. That said, Warren wasn't quite sure on how Scott's eyes worked. He knew Scott's mutant powers allowed him to see almost around his head, which gave him a remarkable field of vision. Not too much slipped by Scott ever. Warren had eyes like an eagle, which gave him the ability to see miles away very narrowly. Scott could see all around them at once. Most times both of them served as lookouts. Between the two of them and Jean's telepathic abilities things rarely got past them.

"No," Scott said quietly "But that little voice inside my head keeps telling me that this would be a perfect place for an ambush. No defensible high ground, no cover, and you can't get a clear fix on where you are because of the shifting sands. Bobby's powers are pretty much voided out, not enough water in the air. If I was planning an ambush this is the place I would do it."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, Slim," Warren grumbled. "I just have a bad feeling that's all. Like we're being watched, but I can't see anything. I just wish I could scout from the skies. Hey I could just be paranoid. Can you tell me why Professor Xavier sent us out here?"

Scott just gave him a very serious look. "Paranoid will keep you alive. You and I can't see anything and Jean hasn't sensed anything it could just be paranoia." Warren just nodded at him while Scott continued.

"But you Warren have excellent instincts and they have kept us alive more times than I would like to count. Tell the other to group tight and Jean to scan for trouble. We should be at the dig by morning. I don't want to take any chances. You and I will stop here and wait for the others. When they get here I'll explain why were out here."

Warren just nodded. "I'll go get the others."

* * *

"So Slim, are you going to tell us why we're out here under orders to make sure we're not noticed?" Jean asked as her camel rode up to where Scott and Warren were waiting for her. They were waiting for Hank and Bobby to catch up. Scott just nodded.

"We're heading to the dig because an old friend of Professor Xavier's called him and said that they had found some very strange ruins out here."

"Okay, how does that tie in with us?" Bobby interrupted.

"I'm getting to that Bobby." Scott grumbled, "Well anyway, Professor Xavier's friend called and said that she had found some very strange ruins. The thing that got her was the fact that the ruins were far away from any other ancient city. That was the first strange thing. The second thing that got her was the fact the writing on the wall talked how the ruins were commissioned by a Egyptian Queen about two to three thousand years ago. Apparently she hired all the best minds at the time to trap 'He who would not die' the monster responsible for destroying her father."

"I'm not following you here Slim why would Professor Xavier be interested in what sounds like a legend?" Warren asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"Well it seems 'He who would not die' could do a lot of strange magic like read people's minds, and control light," Scott continued.

"Remarkable," Hank interrupted with his eyes lit with interest. "Professor Xavier thinks he was a mutant. If it's true, it would prove his theory right, that we are quite possibly the next step in evolution."

"How could that be important?" Bobby asked looking puzzled giving Hank a baffled look

"Think about it, Bobby." Hank continued. "If a mutant showed up two to three thousand years ago it would shoot down the theory that we are freaks of nature caused by industrial pollutants. This could make the human race look at all the old legends much more carefully. What if the Titans were mutants and not just legends?"

"How reassuring," Jean added in dryly. "Humans hunted them down and tried to kill them too."

"Wouldn't that disprove Professor Xavier's theory though," Bobby asked adding in. "I mean that would mean that mutants showed two thousand years before Xavier said they would."

"It wouldn't necessarily disprove his theory Bobby," Hank continued. "Two thousand years evolution-wise is just a eye blink." Hank then looked in Jean's direction.

"History does have a sad pattern of repeating itself I'm afraid. I'm just confused on why Professor Xavier didn't come personally to check this find out."

"I can answer that one," Scott added in "We couldn’t get access to get a plane in here. Professor Xavier couldn't get out here. It's just two far out for him to try it get in by a wheel chair, or camel. Add to the fact, word would get out that he went to the dig and he's afraid that it would draw attention. Professor Xavier wants to keep this hushed up until he can find out what's out there."

"I get it." Warren added in. "A world renowned scholar would draw attention but four of his students getting sent to a old friend to see the insides of a dig for a field trip wouldn't."

Scott nodded. "Exactly. He wants to know what there before governments start snooping around the joint."

"What exactly does he think might be there that he wants to keep this all hushed up?" Jean asked looking a little confused.

"I think I can answer this one, O'Fearless." Hank added in, looking straight at Jean. "He feels there might be something there to use against mutants. If there is any form of ancient weapon there he wants to know what we might be up against. That's the reason for keeping everything quite." 

Scott just nodded. "I'm supposed to go talk to Dr. Johnston and see what she has to report. If she feels it is necessary that the Professor should take a look. I'm to report back to Professor Xavier and he will take a plane out here. Until we know for sure he wants to play it close to the vest. Any more questions anyone?"

"No" was the response from the four others.

Scott nodded. "Good, you have my orders. Stay close together, no wondering off. Jean and Warren, keep scanning for trouble. I want to get there by morning."

* * *

They indeed got there before the sun rose and Dr. Johnston was waiting for them. She was a middle-aged woman, with dark hair that was starting to gray, glasses and a very serious expression on her face. When she saw them coming over the horizon she actually smiled that them for a moment before her expression turned serious again.

"You must be Scott and the rest of Charles' students. It's very nice to meet you. Charles has told me so much about you all."

Warren smiled at her. "I hope you will of course give us the benefits of the doubt and draw your own conclusions." She gave Warren a grin and Scott just rolled his eyes. Warren's charm worked on women of all ages.

"You must be Warren. You're as charming as Charles said you were. That would mean that the one wearing the glasses is Henry McCoy, and the other one who looks like he doesn't want to be here must be Robert Drake. Jean is the lovely young woman traveling with the four of you. So," She paused and looked in Scott's direction. "That must make you Scott. Charles does quite a bit of bragging about you young man." Scott just looked down at his feet. She just smiled in Scott's direction. 

"You're as shy as Charles said you were. Well come along. I let you all rest, freshen up, get something to eat and we can sit down and talk. I think I have found something that may interest Charles."

* * *

It amazed Scott at the change that a little rest could do for his team. Bobby was much more his easygoing self. Getting Hank away from his ill-tempered camel had done wonders for his mood. Warren was still a little edgy but more relaxed. The only one who seemed more jumpy was Jean. The closer they had gotten to the ruins the jumpier she got. Scott waited to get her alone to find out what was bothering her.

"What's the matter Jean? Something bothering you?" Scott asked quietly. Jean looked around for a moment and nodded.

"I don't know what this place is but it shuts my telepathy down. The whole ruins are like a dead zone to me and I don't like it. I have never run in to a place that did this before. I'm running blind and it makes me really jumpy. Does the place do anything to you?"

Scott nodded no. "My beams are acting just fine. In fact, they're stronger than they've been in a while, thanks to all the sun I've absorbed the last couple of days. If it shuts your telepathy, does it shut down the Professor from being able to contact us?"

Jean scowled at him. "That's a very interesting question. I know I'm blind but I don't know about the Professor. He's a lot stronger than I am. That's a very good question. Every time I use my telekinesis, it gives me a headache. It's like this place was designed to be used against mutant powers like mine."

It was Scott's time to scowl. "That makes two of us down. Bobby can't really use his powers out here very well because it's too dry. The ruins or what ever is in them is causing you not to be able to use yours. That leaves Hank, Warren and me if trouble shows up, and the sands slow Hank down."

Jean just smirked at him for a moment. "Expecting trouble, Slim?"

Scott gave her a serious look. "I'm the team leader. My job is to expect trouble even when we can't see it coming. Let's go see what Dr. Johnston has to say about this place."

* * *

"Apparently the ruins were built about two to three thousand years ago. A young Queen was trying to put the end to a rein of terror caused by a slave boy. The writings called him 'He would not die'. Apparently she was desperate; nothing they could do ended this man's rein of terror. No matter what her army tried they just could not kill him by any 'human means.'" Dr. Johnston sat explaining the story to them from a rubbing of a wall that she had taken before them arrived. 

She continued, "Apparently this slave boy had fallen in love with her but she did not return the feelings. So he had set out to destroy her kingdom. He enslaved and transformed her father and then proceeded to make war on her. Nothing could stop him. He slaughtered her armies. So out of desperation she summoned the wisest minds of the time to come up with a plan to stop him and she built these ruins. By the writings this place would seal him with all his victims for all eternity to wait for Ra's judgement.

"I'm having a very real problem trying to get an exact date of these ruins because frankly I have no references to this dynasty anywhere else. So it is making dating very difficult. There is really nothing here to date it very well, no art, and no real artifacts to try to place the time frame. Honestly I can't even tell if the ruins were even finished. There are hints that there is more to the place than I've discovered. I'll be excavating more of the site by tonight so maybe I'll learn more."

Scott nodded at her and asked, "Would you mind if I hung around and watched? I would just like to see what you uncover." Dr. Johnston nodded at him.

"I understand you something of a history bluff Mr. Summers. So of course you're welcome to stick around the dig. In fact all of you are invited to hang around." Bobby rolled his eyes. Scott knew this was not his thing at all. In fact Bobby had not wanted to step foot in the dessert. Bobby had wanted to stay in the air conditioned hotel room watch TV in a foreign language and pig out on the box of Twinkies that he had some how managed to smuggle past customs. Apparently Professor Xavier had filled in Dr. Johnston on Bobby's lack of interest in history. When she looked in Bobby's direction she gave him a good-humored smirk. Apparently she had caught him rolling his eyes.

"Those of you not so interested in watching us excavate the site there is a oasis about three miles from here to the east. It is very lovely and is a wonderful place to go swimming if you're interested. The water comes straight from the mountains and I'm told it is quite cold." Scott just chuckled to himself. That caught Bobby's attention. Bobby perked up quite a bit and asked her.

"Did you say water? Did you say Cold water?" Dr. Johnson just nodded at Bobby. Bobby looked in Scott's direction right away.

"Can we go please?" Scott noticed that even Warren looked interested. Scott nodded at Bobby.

"You can go if Warren or Hank goes with you. I don't want anyone going anywhere alone." Bobby turned and gave Warren a very cute charming look. Scott chuckled to himself apparently Bobby was taking lessons.

"Please, please can we go? It might help charge my mutant ability. I really want to go swimming please?" Warren gave Bobby a bemused look

"Sure. I would love to go swimming myself. I'm only part bird. I'm not that particle to dirt baths. Water sounds wonderful." Bobby just jumped around in glee. Hank broke it just then. He had been silent all through Dr. Johnston's little narrative.

"I think I'll go with them. I want to do some chemical analyses of the walls of this place. I'm going to need some fresh water to do it and I don't want to use Dr. Johnston's drinking water. Coming Jean?" Jean shook her head.

"No I'm staying here. I am not even going to try to walk in to that sun with my fair skin. Unlike the rest of you I go from white to burn. Besides" Jean rubbed her head "I have a start of a headache so I think I'll just go to my tent and lay down for a while."

"Okay then," Scott jumped in. "Hank Warren and Bobby are going to the oasis. Jean and I are going to stay here." Scott pulled something out of his pocket and threw them to Warren

"Here's the map and the compass. I know with Warren's sense of direction you won't need it but take it with you anyway. It will make me feel better and take extra water with you too. Have fun."

* * *

"You know most people would be crispy by now you know." Dr. Johnston broke Scott's concentration as he watched her crew excavate the sight. Scott blinked at her.

"What was that? I wasn't really paying attention."

"I could tell. The sun might be slowly cooking your brain. I said that most people would be crispy by now sitting in the sun for as long as you have. As far as I can tell you don’t have a touch of pink to you. Your nose should be blood red by now. You're still just sporting the tan you came with. Care to give me the name of your sun block? In fact my very dark skinned crew would like to know what brand is too. Even they would have started feeling the effects of the dessert by now." Dr. Johnston smirked at him as she took a sip of water from her canteen. Scott cursed himself. He should have been more careful. As light skinned as he was he should have known that him not burning would have drawn a few remarks. He had just been too interested in what was going on at the dig to pay attention.

"Would you believe I absorb sunlight like a plant does? So I don't burn?" Dr. Johnston just gave him a strange look.

"You should put a hat on. Even if you absorb sunlight that fact doesn't eliminate the threat of heatstroke, young man. Charles tells me that you like Greek history what time?" Scott nodded to her.

"I like ancient Greek history. I like to read about Alexander. He was brilliant no one has ever figured supply lines like he did. The man conquered the known world at the time and no one ever broke his supply lines." Dr. Johnston gave Scott a bemused look. 

"You like to read about the general. I honestly prefer the king and diplomat myself. Think about it. No one ever broke his supply lines. You tell me how much diplomacy that took dealing with different allies to keep them open. I don't think they give the man enough credit. Some parts of the world he conquered Alexander never lifted a sword. Do you believe Alexander was right about self-mastery?" Scott just gave her a thoughtful look.

"Yes. I honestly believe he was right about that. How can you be expected to control an army if you can't control yourself?" Dr. Johnston gave him a very bemused look.

"You sound like Charles. Self-mastery didn't always work for Alexander. It was is faults he never mastered that was his downfall."

"You're right. Alexander's flaws were his down fall." Scott responded "It's the same with all great leaders. Most leaders build their own downfall. Most times a leader's greatest strengths are their greatest weaknesses too. Take Alexander's Calvary tactics for example. They made him unstoppable. If someone had figured out to use those same tactics against him it would have dismantled his army." Dr. Johnston smirked at Scott.

"I'm starting to understand why Charles brags so much. I can tell you keep him on his toes."

"Dr. Johnston come quickly! I think we found something!" One of the voices of Dr. Johnston crew suddenly rang out.

* * *

It appeared that they found a door in the floor leading to a lower chamber.

"How long will it take you to uncover the door completely?" Dr. Johnston asked her crew leader.

"We could have the door completely uncovered by nightfall Doctor, but men say that we shouldn't touch this door," the crew chief said in broken English. "They say by uncovering the door we will call 'He who will not die' wrath upon our heads. They say that his chief scribe knows all and sees all and he will come." Dr. Johnston just rolled her eyes.

"I'm not afraid of a Mummy coming after me. Tell the men to continue." The crew chief didn't look too happy but nodded anyway.

"I will tell them but I can not guarantee that they will continue. They are afraid that his creatures will come."

"Tell them to proceed crew, chief," Dr. Johnston stated. She looked at Scott.

"Where were we? Alexander?" Scott just smiled at her.

"Could we finish this later, Dr. Johnston? I want to go back to camp and check on Jean and go get my hat. If that's okay with you?" Dr. Johnston just nodded.

"Of course. I would like to finish our conversation. I'm going to stay here and watch over my crew."

* * *

When Scott got back to camp he immediately went to go check on Jean. He stood outside where she and Dr. Johnston were staying. He knocked on the tent flap.

"Marvel Girl…I came to check on you to see if you need anything. It's me Scott. I mean Slim, no I mean Scott."

" _I have definitely been in the sun to long today_ ," Scott thought dryly to himself. " _It's starting to cook my brain._ " When no answer came in from within the tent he knocked again. 

"Jean are you alright? I'm coming in."

 _Please let her be dressed_ ," Scott thought to himself. " _I don't need anymore-dirty dreams about long legs and red hair._ " When he entered the tent he found Jean lying on her cot apparently asleep. At least it seem that way until a close up inspection revealed a feverish flush to her cheeks. She didn't look good either.

"Jean, wake up. Are you alright?" Scott asked gently as he tried to shake her awake. She felt feverish too. It took a while but Jean finally started responding.

"Slim, what are you doing here?" Jean asked groggily. Scott looked down at her with a very concerned expression on his face.

"I came to check and see how you are feeling."

"My headache is worse, and I also feel lousy. Why?" Jean croaked out.

"You're running a fever too," Scott stated, looking down at her. "Tonight, when Warren and the others come back, Warren is flying you out of here. I'm not taking any chances and I'm not taking any arguments." Jean just nodded at him and that told Scott exactly how lousy she was feeling. Most times she objected to things she thought was preferred treatment.

"I'll be right back Marvel Girl…"

"Jean."

"I'll be right back Jean. I am going to go get something from my bag. I'll be right back." Jean just nodded to him and started drifting back to sleep. Scott came back in a little while later carrying his pack. He came over and laid it next to Jean. That's what snapped her attention back to what's going on.

"What do you carry around in that thing anyway? You take it with you everywhere we go."

Scott looked down at here and said, "I just carry what we might need, med kit, extra supplies."

"Boy Scout Manual?" Jean asked dryly. Scott looked at her amused.

"I have on of those too. Never know when you might need to tie a knot. Besides in Hanks and Warren's hands the book dangerous. As long as I'm carrying it I know that they aren't using the knowledge it contains against Bobby. Besides I have some Tylenol in here and I want you to take some for your temp." Scott handed her a couple of tablets. "Now take it easy and rest. I'll stay with you until the others arrive I promise."

For some odd reason Jean felt very safe when he promised her that as she drifted to sleep.

* * *

It was a loud noise that snapped Scott out of the light sleep he had drifted in too. He noted it was after dark now. He had spent the entire afternoon in Jean's tent. She wasn't any better but she wasn't any worse either. Scott had spent most of the day just sitting with her, and worrying about her. Could it be this place that is doing it to her? Scott wanted to get her as far from this place as possible just in case. Where was Warren he should have been back with Bobby and Hank by now? 

The noise that woke Scott up sounded very much like a human scream? When another came just like it Scott decided it was definitely a human scream. He was torn. Should he stay here or stay with Jean who was still sleeping? Jean was sick and fairly defenseless right now.

"Jean, wake up," Scott whispered very quietly. He shook her gently.

"Jean, wake up. I need to go check something out. I want you awake when I do it." Jean just groaned.

"Jean, please wake up."

"What is it?" Jean grumbled groggily.

"I don't know. So I have go check it out. I need you to wake up. I think Dr. Johnston and her crew might be in trouble." Another inhuman scream came through the dark and this one snapped Jean a little more aware.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I don't know that's what I wanted to go check out. I need you awake before I can go. I need you to stay low and stay out of sight while I go check it out."

"I'm coming with you." Jean stated.

"NO you're not. You're going to stay right here and stay low. It's probably tomb raiders and I can take care of them by myself from a distance. If I don't come back, I need you to stay low and make sure they don't ambush the others when they come in to camp. So I need you to stay here." Jean started to object.

"Jean, listen to me. Your telepathy is void here. You’re sick. Right now in the field you'll be more of a hindrance than an asset. If you were Hank, Warren or Bobby I would tell you to stay here too."

"Professor Xavier says we should never go in to the field with out back up," Jean objected.

"I'll be careful." Jean just glared at him and sighed.

"If I was feeling better I would kick your butt. For even thinking about attempting this."

"I promise you I will be careful. I'm just going to scout around and see what is going on."

* * *

Scott proceeded to the dig sight very carefully. There was very little light to see by, dark of the moon. The thought didn't make him feel any better.

" _Well if I can't see them they can't see me either._ " Scott thought dryly to himself wishing he had just a little light to see what was in front of him. The first person that he came upon was one of the guards that Dr. Johnston had hired to help guard the dig. He was quite dead and had died quite horribly. When Scott had flipped him over. The guard's blood was everywhere. Scott honestly thought he would remember the man's expression forever. No artist could ever have captured the complete look of pain and horror that the man had managed to capture on his face in his last moments. Scott fought the bile that was burning the back of his throat. He was also fighting the urge to empty the contents of his stomach on the desert sands. Scott instead got up from where he was kneeling by the man. Like in a trance proceeded to the main area of the dig.

When he got there everyone was dead. Scott gently closed Dr. Johnston's dead staring eyes. It took only a good look at the blood-splattered area to confirm that everyone was dead. Scott could tell that by not looking to close. Not many people could survive a complete dismemberment. Scott had seen death before but nothing like the scene before him. For the first time in his life Scott was very happy to be alone. No one saw him empty the contents of his stomach in to the desert sands.

* * *

"I have a quick question for you, Hank," Warren announced. "What could screw up a bird's sense of direction?" Hank just blinked at him.

"I had a feeling that this was the same sand dune we climbed two hours ago." Hank continued giving Warren a thoughtful look. "There are several different theories on how a bird can tell direction. One is that a bird uses the magnetic field and can always tell magnetic north. Another theory believes that some birds use the sun and light to sense what direction they are going. I drift towards the magnetic field theory myself. So anything that can produce or scramble a magnetic field can mess up a bird's sense of direction." Bobby gave them both a thoughtful look. 

"You guys think that Magneto's here? He's the only one we know of that plays with the magnetic field."

"Oh, that thought just makes me feel even better." Warren grumbled.

"Have you looked at the compass?" Bobby asked. "Slim showed me that the compass just spins out of control when Magneto is around. He told me that Magneto can hide from scanners and telepaths but he can't hide from the compass. The closer he is the faster it spins around. It always gives him away." Hank gave Bobby a considering look.

"He's right. Magneto due to his magnetic field would cause a compass to spin out of control. It would be a simple way to determine if Magneto was in the area." Warren pulled the compass out of his pocket.

"It's not spinning. Good news I guess but my instincts are telling me that it's not right. If my sense of direction is off so is the compass."

"That just leaves us lost in the dessert with only three days worth of supplies with no real idea where we are," Hank stated quite calmly. "At least we have plenty of water." Warren nodded in response.

"I say we stake camp here and wait for the stars to come out. We can navigate by them. I have the map. Hank and I can try to figure out our exact coordinates. It's a good thing that Slim insisted we take the map. Bobby you're serving as watch. Keep your eyes open for trouble." Hank nodded in agreement.

"It would be the best course of action. The stars will help not only navigate but calculate our coordinates too. Though this whole situation bothers me." Bobby gave them both a considering look.

"You think we've been setup?"

"Like dominoes," Warren responded. "The whole think shouts set up to me. It is just to damned convenient."

"Do you think Dr. Johnston has anything to do with it?" Bobby asked. Warren gave Bobby a considering glance.

"Maybe. The professor trusts her though. Professor Xavier rarely misjudges people." 

Warren looked over at Hank's direction and asked, "What do you think?" 

Hank looked considering for a moment before he spoke, "I think if we're waiting until sunset to do anything so is the person who set us up. Who ever did this is making sure that we can't find our way back to the dig. For what reasons I can't speculate." Warren scowled.

"Wonderful. That's means we can expect trouble after dark. That means that Red and Slim have trouble coming their way and we have no means of warning them."

"True." Hank added in "Logic would dictate that we worry about our own situation first. We can't help the two of them if we're dead. Survival is our first priority. A view from the air might help us locate where we are. If not at least it will help us find some defendable high ground." Warren just nodded. 

"I'll scout discretely from the air. Bobby is watch and you Hank try to figure where we are. We have until dark people lets make the time count."

* * *

Scott was carefully making it back to camp when he got jumped. All he had managed to see was a shadow in the darkness. If he had been a normal human, he never would have seen it coming. When he had reached for the switch to his visor, and shouted a warning of freeze, whoever it was jumped him. They moved fast too. Whatever it was moved a lot faster than even Hank at his best. Scott didn't even manage to get even one shot in before who ever it was came at him fast. As they leaped at him Scott grabbed them, rolled with the momentum and flung them as far as he could manage. 

Whoever it was wasn't even phased. In fact they even landed on their feet. That throw would have sent Hank sprawling. As Scott threw them, they had managed to slash him, right across the throat and chin. They had meant that to be a killing blow. Scott knew he was going to need stitches. That hit was going to leave some ugly bruises too. Scott had a very bad feeling he was in big trouble.

Whoever it was leaped from the shadows again. Scott didn't have time to reach for the visor. Whatever it was they moved fast and hit twice as hard. When they connected Scott felt a couple ribs crack. Suddenly Scott was looking up at a couple of predatory cat like green eyes that were looking down at him. Those eyes belonged to a woman. She wasn't heavy enough and the body contours were all wrong for her to be a man. At that moment Scott wished that he had some better light. He really wished he could tell what she looked like. It was always nice to see what the person that was kicking your butt, looked like.

Scott took advantage of the moment that she was looking down studying him and threw her hard. Scott threw her in the direction of a rock formation. She hit it hard. Scott thought he heard a couple of her ribs crack this time. She was still for about a second. She came to her feet shaking it off. Scott had the strangest feeling that she was very pleased he got the jump on her. Her voice purred through the darkness.

"Your better than I thought you would be. You are in deed worthy of the honor of being father of the chosen one Cyclops." Scott took a defensive stand and tried to fight off his surprise. 

"Who are you?" Scott demanded. She slowly got to her feet and started circling him. 

"I have been studying you, Cyclops. I, like you, am the first among students. I am that which will survive, a rider of the Storm. I am here to test you. To see if you’re indeed worthy of the honor that my master will one day give you." Scott narrowed his eyes.

"What honor?" She smiled at him.

"You will one day test my master and prove to all he is that which will survive. You will serve as his vessel and give him new life." Her eyes narrowed and she purred out the next words. They made the hair on the back of Scott's neck stick up.

"Remember, Cyclops, all great leaders will plant the seeds of their own destruction. I've seen how you look at the Grey woman. She has to be completely blind not to see how you feel about her. Telepaths are so humanly blind sometimes. They think because they understand some ones thoughts they understand that person. You have mastered your thoughts haven't you Cyclops? It was something you learned to do survive. It's those human urges that whisper to you in the middle of the night you have a harder time wrestling with. Tell me Cyclops will you be Lancelot that rips Xavier's happy little Camelot apart? Will you act on them? Knowing what you do about how Worthington feels about her? Have you ever considers what seeds you've planted?"

Scott responded to her question by trying to blast her. She dodged his optic beam easily. She leaped at him before he could get another shot in. She hit him hard, knocked the wind out of him and pinned him hard. Scott definitely felt some ribs crack this time. She was a lot stronger than she looked. Scott was once again looking up in to a set of green eyes. She purred in his ear.

"I just love a man of action. Will you beg for your life, Cyclops?" Scott responded to that question by just glaring at her from behind his visor. She purred in his ear.

"Courageous and cute too. You are indeed worthy." She licked the blood off of Scott's chin and his open wounds in a very seductive manner.

"You will not die tonight, Cyclops. You have won your life tonight and that of your female companion. I won't kill her. Someday she will be my test." She stuck her head between his chin and his shoulder and took a deep whiff and purred in a low seductive purr.

"I am going to enjoy the duty I will someday be asked to perform." Right then Scott felt a claw jab him. A cold feeling suddenly started creeping up his arm. Those green eyes looking down at him coolly studying him was very far away. Darkness was closing around his vision. The strange thing was his last thought was how the green eyes looking down at him reminded him of Jean's eyes. Suddenly the darkness closed around his vision completely and Scott felt awareness slip away.

* * *

"Slim, please wake up. Don't leave me alone in the dark. Just open your eyes and say something." Those were the first words that drifted in to Scott's awareness. Someone was shaking him gently and saying something to him. He felt he was lying on a chunk of ice. He managed a little groan when whoever it was came in contact with his cracked ribs. 

"Slim? Can you hear me? Open your eyes please?" Scott flinched as he opened his eyes to a soft green light. (One of glow sticks from my backpack.) So part of his brain was starting to work again. When he finally managed to open his eyes again he was looking up at Jean concerned face. She was deathly pale and had a lump on the side of her forehead.

"You look like hell." Scott muttered looking up at her. His mouth felt like someone had stuffed cotton in to it. Jean blinked at him and started laughing. It had an edge of hysteria to it.

"I look like hell. You haven't got a good look at yourself yet."

"If I look as bad as I feel. I don’t think I want to." Scott muttered flinching as he tried to sit up, broken and cracked ribs protesting every inch of the way. Scott realized he was shivering and wondered for a moment why. Was it the drug, the beating, shock, or lying on a stone cold floor for an undisclosed period of time? (Probably a little of everything) he thought to himself. He took a closer look at Jean.

"Are you alright?" Jean nodded to him. 

"They jumped me and hit me upside the head. I never saw whomever it was coming. When I came too I was lying next to you. We're in a chamber of some type. I tried to wedge the door open while you were still out telekinetically. I didn't have any luck. We're trapped but they were nice enough to throw your backpack down with us." 

Jean studied him a little more closely and asked, "Are you all right?" Scott just nodded to her.

"I'll live. It's always nice to get your ass kicked once in a while. It helps keep you real. Are we still at the dig?" Jean nodded to him. 

"I think so. I wasn't out long enough for whoever it was to move us far." Scott considered that statement.

"Okay that means we're probably underground. If we're trapped air is our number one priority. Finding away out would be next. You tried to wedge the doors open and that didn't work. I'll take a look around and try to figure out how the chamber is set up. Maybe we can use my beams and either blast or tunnel our way out." Jean just gave him a strange look.

"Do you think the others are alright?" Scott gave her a considering look.

"Honestly? I don't know. There are three of them. That makes them a harder target. If it makes you feel better, if I had to send anyone in to a situation where there might be an ambush, I would send those three. Hank thinks quickly on his feet. Warren performs wonderfully when it's a situation that calls for just reacting. Bobby will follow orders with out any questions. The three of them are a team and work together very well. That leaves a lot in their favor." Jean considered what he had just said and responded.

"They walked right through us didn't they?" Scott just nodded at her.

"Yes they did. We learn from it. Right now though survival is our number one priority. We can't help the others. Thinking about it is a useless waste of effort that will take away your ability to think clearly. Thinking clearly will keep you alive, emotionalism won't. Talking like this is wasting air." Jean narrowed her eyes at him.

"You know Scott sometimes I think the Professor gave the wrong code name of 'Iceman' to Bobby. Sometimes you can really piss me off." Scott gave her a cold look right back.

"Are you going to help me find away to get out of here or not? If not, this useless chatter is using up our air. We need to determine there's a airflow coming in to this room." Jean gave him an angry look and nodded at him.

* * *

They stuck at dark like Hank said they would. While it was still light Hank had managed to help them find there way back to the oasis. At least there they had plenty of water and defendable high ground. The three of them had retreated to a high rock formation overlooking the oasis. Warren could even see the dig from this lookout. Warren suddenly caught Hank smirking to himself. 

"Care to share the joke?" Warren asked. Hank blinked at him.

"I just was thinking Slim would be very pleased with us right now. We're operating right out of his strategy tactics of 'Always take the high ground. It gives you the tactical advantage over your opponents.'" Warren smirked back at Hank.

"Your right he would be. We'll keep this between ourselves. Think of the ego trip he'd go on if Slim thought we actually listened to him." Hank just nodded at him and chuckled lowly.

"Oh my stars and garters yes. Just think of the ego trip. He actually might say something outside of a battle or a danger room situation for a change. We'd never shut him up."

"If we get out of this alive. I think we owe him dinner," Warren announced thoughtfully. Hank smirked at him again. "That opens a new set of problems on how to get him out of the house and away from the danger room." Hank suddenly narrowed his eyes.

"Do you really think someone is out there?"

"I know there is. Right now it's who makes the first move," Warren replied quietly. Right then Bobby came quickly shuffling over.

"I think I saw a couple of shadows moving up the hill." Warren nodded at him.

"Apparently this is it. Remember the plan people."

* * *

Scott made a few determinations while he looked around. One they did have air coming in. Though he couldn't find out from exactly where. Two the place wasn't just one chamber. It was a huge system of underground chambers. The place was a lot larger than he first thought. Three there seemed to be no way out. Scott honestly didn't think that he could blast his way through with his optic beam. Four he had to get Jean out of here as quickly as possible.

As the hours had ticked by Jean had become less and less coherent. It had started with her fever coming back. As far as Scott could tell her temperature was starting to reach dangerously high levels. For a while she had at least followed conversations. It had started with her talking to 'Annie' and Jean repeating out loud how sorry she was. That the accident had been all her fault because she hadn't listen to her parents about that corner. Then she had started talking to other people. When Scott had asked whom she was talking to Jean had responded by saying "Don't you see them?" Then Jean had gone right back to talking to them like Scott wasn't even there. She kept asking them to leave her alone. For the last hour or so Jean had just laid not responding to anything. Scott went over every couple of minutes to check for a pulse and tried to get her to respond. Scott was truly starting to worry that Jean was lapsing in to a coma. 

Scott was busy looking at a carving on a wall of the Cyclops merging with another hideous monster. It was a truly horrible scene. The expression on the Cyclops' face was going to give Scott nightmares for days. (Well,) Scott thought dryly to himself (it really balances out the scene with the Phoenix eating the planet on the other side of the chamber. And Hank says that modern art is scary.) When Jean's voice called out weakly "Slim?"

"Right here," Scott called back as he hurried over to her side. "How are you feeling?" Jean just blinked at him trying to pull him in to focus in her fever-dazed mind. She just grabbed on to Scott like he was her last lifeline, not even answering his question. There were tears rolling down her eyes.

"They said I'm going to die here. That I'm going to be in the dark alone forever." Scott cradled her in his arms gently.

"Well their wrong. We are getting out of here. Do you understand me?" Jean just nodded at him. "Tell them to back off, because you're not listening to them. I'm your field commander, and you're listening to me. No one is going to die today — my orders. If they have a problem with that they can take it up with me. Do you understand me, Marvel Girl?" Jean nodded at him again.

"Good. Now just relax. I'm working on a way to get us out of here." Jean didn't respond but started relaxing in his arms. Scott for just a moment thought he saw a ghostly image of a little girl standing before them smirking evilly down at Jean. The ghostly little girl reached for Jean.

" _BACK OFF!_ " Scott's thought projected at her with all projection techniques that Professor Xavier had thought him. " _You can't have her. She's mine! She's not going anywhere with you!) The little girl just blinked at him startled and vanished._ "

" _Now that I've settled that argument. I can concentrate on finding away out of here_ ," Scott thought to himself. 

He went and pulled his canteen out of his backpack. The answer came to him studying the canteen. "I'm so stupid." Scott announced out loud. "Water's the answer. The nearest source of water is three miles away. They needed to rig something to get water to the workers underground. Hang on Jean, I think I just figured a way to get us out of here."

* * *

It took Scott a good half an hour to find what he was looking for.

"Aqueduct," Scott said out loud to himself inspecting two marks on the floor where the base of it would have been. "They couldn't bring it down here at a very steep angle. They would lose to much water." Scott did some quick calculations in his head.

"That would mean that this was where the aqueduct came in to the chamber. Hopefully they didn't close it off in traditional Egyptian fashion by placing a carefully cut, couple ton granite slab over the hole. I'm betting that since they didn't make this chamber airtight, they never had a chance to finish it." Scott looked over at Jean's unconscious form.

"Let's hope I'm right about this. Trying to push up a couple ton granite slab with my optic beam. All the while trying to climb up carrying you could prove to be a very interesting climb."

* * *

After Bobby had spotted the shadows going up the hill. They had suddenly vanished. Hank and Warren just stayed low and waited.

"Surprise is the best way to get the tactical advantage over an opponent. In those situations patience is your largest asset. Who ever moves first gives their location and their advantage way." Scott's voice whispered in Warren ear. What had surprised Warren was that it was Scott's voice talking to him and not the Professor's.

" _Then again, military tactics were not really part of the Professor's lesson plan._ " Neither side had moved for a while.

" _It's going to come down to who cracks first. Come on I know you're out there. Just make your damned move_ ," Warren thought to himself. Hank was as still as a stone. Bobby hadn't moved at all in a half an hour. As far as Warren could remember that was a record for Bobby staying still in one place. Right then a voice rang out through the night.

"I am a horseman of Death. There is nowhere you can hide my young friends. You are just prolonging the inevitable." Hank and Warren exchanged the same look.

"Bingo. We have them now."

* * *

"To think you made fun of me for having the Boy Scout manual," Scott grumbled as he looked for another handhold on the wall. "I happened to have found a knot that worked quite nicely to tie you to me Miss Grey." Jean still wasn't responding. She was tied to Scott's back as he made the difficult climb up the rather narrow passage. He was carefully carving handholds with his optic beam. The going was slow, and the angle was pretty damned steep. 

"Did I happen to mention Marvel Girl that since you arrived you have made my life very complicated?" The last time Scott had checked Jean had officially been in a coma. Scott was just taking to her as he climbed up. Hoping to keep her from slipping too deep in to that coma.

"When it was just the four of us, life was much simpler. Before you walked in the door, the four of us were like a family. Closer than brothers in fact, then you came and things changed. Beautiful, intelligent, spirited, what wasn't there for a guy to fall for and guess what Jean? All four of us did. If anyone of us ever act on those feeling guess what? It would rip this team apart. Rip the only family I ever had apart. In fact, over you, were one of the few times the Professor and I ever had a knock out drag out fight about something. Well, except about my bike but you don't know about that. I wanted him to turn around and send you right back home. I was scared for what you could do to this team. What you could do to my family." Scott carefully reached for another handhold and continued softly.

"I was scared of what you could do to me. Growing up I learned to look at people not as people if that makes any sense? In the orphanage where I grew up, kids were just faces, not human beings. Later on the streets when I was scamming pool for my next meal. I never thought of a mark as human. You just kept your mind on the money. If you don't let yourself feel no one can get close enough to hurt you. You came in and started changing all of that for me. I have no idea what I'm going to do about it." Scott suddenly got a very tender look over his face and tried to look over his shoulder in Jean's direction.

"I'm starting to see human beings again. So tell me, Miss Grey, what am I going to do about you? Better yet, what am I going to do about me?"

* * *

Warren never really understood exactly what happened when 'Death' attacked. Later on he still wouldn't remember it very well. Death had gone straight for Bobby first. He had spouted out 'My touch brings death' or something like that. Watching him close in on Bobby with his hand glowing, Warren had just reacted. Warren did a flying tackle and knocked Death away from Bobby. "So we have someone in a hurry to meet his God." was all Death had responded. While Warren had been tousling on the ground with Death, Warren's bare arm had come in contact with that creature's glowing hand.

It had been the most agonizing experience of Warren life. He had felt a scream escape from his throat. From that moment on it had all been instinct. Warren had used his good arm and swung at the creature hard with all his super strength. He hadn't pulled it and when it connected with the creature's head there had been a sickening crack as bones gave. The creature had form had gone flying from the force of Warren's blow. The creature form sailed right over the edge of the cliff. Warren thought he heard through his haze of pain a voice he didn't recognize call out.

"He killed Death." Warren staggered to his feet and made his way to the edge of the cliff. He couldn't see anything looking down in to that pitch-black void. He felt his head spinning and some part of him registered that he couldn't use the arm the creature had touched. Warren felt like throwing up and very dizzy.

From a great distance he heard Hank's voice calling to Bobby to come help him. That's when Warren's knees had given way and the world had gone completely black.

* * *

"Scott, are you alright?" Hank McCoy called towards his friend standing on the edge of the roof of the building they were staying in. Hank had to admit the view of Cairo was breath taking. Scott had been spending quite a bit of time up here by himself lately. 

"I'm fine, Hank." Scott replied with out looking at him. Scott continued to look out at the setting sun behind the city. "How are Jean and Warren doing?"

"They're both going to be alright. Jean is starting to grumble about having to stay in bed. I'm ordered to pass on if you don't go visit soon it’s going to be your head. Warrens arm is healing. He even managed to move his fingers today. The professor and I think he will regain complete use of it. He's still rather upset about what happened on that cliff. The authorities never found a body. So I honestly don't know if our assailant is dead."

Scott just nodded and said, "For Warren's sake, I hope we never do. You and Bobby did a good job out there." Hank just nodded.

"Thanks. I really can't take credit for it. After Death went off the cliff the others just ran away. Warren really deserves the credit. All I did was pull Warren's butt out of the dessert and keep the wound on his arm clean. Bobby says next time that we want to visit a dessert he's staying home. I'm up here because I'm worried about you though." Scott just shrugged but didn't look up from the sunset. 

"A few stitches, a few cracked ribs, no big deal. I've had worse. Even I need my ass kicked once in a while. Keeps my head from getting too big. Jean and Warren are the two you should be worried about." Hank just blinked and tried again.

"Jean and Warren are going to be fine. It's you I'm worried about. Penny for your thoughts?" Scott turned and smirked at him suddenly.

"They're pretty deep. They'll cost you a lot more than a penny."

"If I think they're worth more," Hank responded. "I'll buy you diner." Scott just sighed.

"Camelot. You know the legend?" Hank just nodded. 

"Of course. King Arthur, Merlin, everyone has heard of it." Scott gave him a serious look.

"Do you remember how it ended?" Hank nodded at him.

"Mordred, Arthur's bastard son, and he killed each other." Scott chuckled humorously.

"Yes that was the ending. I was thinking about how it all spiraled down. Lancelot gave in to the passion between him and Guinevere. He betrayed and destroyed everything he fought for his entire life giving in to that passion. It was human weaknesses that destroyed Camelot, Hank. Arthur's, Guinevere's, Lancelot's those urges that whisper to you in the middle of the night. The ones you can't control. That's brought the dream down.

Hank absorbed what Scott had said for a moment. "I owe you dinner. I think your missing the point. Those urges and weaknesses we struggle against are what make us human. The struggle against them makes us stronger for it."

Scott just took in what Hank for a moment and suddenly changed the topic. "Dinner sounds great if you're buying."

"Then let's get going. Maybe I can convince Bobby to try some discussing foreign dish. Then laugh at his expression when I inform him what he just ate. You in?" Hank announced gleefully with a look of evil mischief lighting his face.

"Sure why not?" Scott announced. As he was following Hank off the roof, Scott spared on last look over his shoulder towards the sunset. He heard her words whispered through his head again. 

" _You have mastered your thoughts haven't you Cyclops? It was something you learned to do survive. It's those human urges that whisper to you in the middle of the night you have a harder time wrestling with. Tell me Cyclops will you be Lancelot that rips Xavier's happy little Camelot apart?_ "

* * *

"Are you sure we must destroy this place?" the young prince that one-day be known as only Black Panther asked the wise one. "We are destroying so much wisdom of the old ones. There is so much we can learn from this place." The old one nodded sadly.

"There is too much knowledge here. We are not ready for it and it must never fall in to the wrong hands. The only way to guarantee it never gets out is to destroy this place. The twelve are starting to gather and he will awaken soon. Only then will we see if they have the strength to make the sacrifices that must be made. Until then the knowledge this place contains must never fall in to the wrong hands. The balance must be kept my Prince." Black Panther nodded to him and barked out the order to his men.

"Set the charges. We must leave no evidence of this place. After we detonate the charges I will make the long journey to The Wind Rider's village. There I will ask her to call on the winds to return what is left of this accursed place back to the sands."


	8. Anger Management, Geeks, and Other Scarey Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is sent to an anger management seminar and Scott volunteers to go with her. Mind games ensue. And Scott gives a heartfelt speech about the value of some kinds of anger.

"Mrs. Anderson wants me to go to what?!" Jean Grey demanded.

"Anger management. Mrs. Anderson says that if you attend an anger management seminar, she will drop all charges against you. She realized you weren't completely to blame for what happened, and that's why she’s willing to do this. She tends to think you're a very angry young woman," Charles Xavier stated calmly. Jean narrowed her eyes at her teacher.

"She better say that 'I’m not completely to blame for this.' Her pervert son deserved getting his head put through that wall. And my answer is no." Xavier just sighed.

"Though I have my reservations about this seminar, Mrs. Anderson is paying for it, and if you refuse to go, she will press charges. I will be forced to inform you parents of this incident." Jean narrowed her eyes.

"Go ahead." Xavier just sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Listen to me. If you had put Will Anderson's head through that wall somewhere that wasn't in front of witnesses, I would say, 'Yes, fight this.' You didn't though; you put his head through the wall at Harry's on a very crowded night in front of a whole restaurant of witnesses. If you fight this, Jean, you are going to lose."

"See, next time, you wait in the dark parking lot for him to come out, jump him, and kick the crud out of him. Remember — no witnesses." Scott suddenly broke in from where he'd been standing across the office quietly, leaning against a wall. Scott hadn't said one word the whole time Jean and Xavier had been arguing. Xavier narrowed his eyes at Scott.

"She doesn't need lectures on her technique, Scott." He shrugged.

"Okay, let's get to the more interesting question of why am I here?"

"I want you to go with her." Xavier stated calmly. Scott blinked at him for a moment, raised an eyebrow, and stated dryly. 

"With all due respect, sir, I'm not Magneto. I don't try to take my anger out on the entire world at once. Though I admire Magneto's drive and ambition, I'm not that ambitious. I'm quite happy pissing people off and making lives miserable one at a time." 

"I suppose," Xavier stated dryly. " I should be happy to hear that. I still think it would be good for you. That's why I'm asking you to go."

Scott shrugged and stated dryly, "What happens if this anger management therapy works? I would be a happy, calm, easy going, compliant person. No one around here would know how to take me."

"Scott -" Xavier butted in. Scott ignored him to continue in a dry monotone.

"Besides, without my anger, sir, I wouldn't have any friends. I talk to my anger at night. You know that giant huge dust bunny under Bobby's bed that keeps growing? Well, I visualize my growing pit of rage as that dust bunny — just like you taught us to do in class. I named him Earle. Earle is my bestest and only friend in the entire world."

"As disturbing a picture as that may be," Xavier fired back, "It's nice to know you're applying somewhere the techniques I taught you." 

"See, sir," Jean butted in. "Scott doesn't want to go either."

"My answer's 'yes,'" Scott said quietly.

"What!?" both Xavier and Jean asked.

"I said 'yes, I'd go.' When is this seminar?" Xavier was the first to recover.

"Tonight at eight."

"Great. I'll be ready to leave at seven. Jean will have to drive. May I be dismissed now, sir?" Xavier blinked.

"Of course. Jean will be ready to go at seven, too. Dismissed." As Scott walked out of Xavier's office and closed the door behind him, Xavier just narrowed his eyes at the closed door.

"That was too easy."

* * *

"Hey, Hank," Scott announced as he stuck his head in to Hank's lab. "I need to ask you something."

"Get on the table. I need more of your blood," responded Hank McCoy. Hank didn't even look up from the lab results he was looking at. Shaking his head, Scott walked in.

"You wouldn't be keeping Dracula down here and not telling the rest of us?" Hank looked up from the lab report and raised an eyebrow.

"Get on the table, I want to suck your blood. Is this a business or a social call, Oh Fearless?"

"Oh, I just come down here on my time off because I have a sick thing for needles," Scott responded dryly. "I'm down here on business. I need you to do me a favor, and in exchange I'll give you more of my blood or even a tissue sample." Hank raised an eyebrow.

"I'm listening."

"I need you to play with Will Anderson's mind for me." Hank blinked at him.

"That's not the usual type of challenge you present. Any one with an I.Q. over sixty-nine can play with Will Anderson's mind. Asking me to do this for you is a little degrading even for a tissue sample." Scott shrugged.

"I was going to throw you an easy one this time. Oh well, I go ask Bobby to do it for me. Bobby is the only one evil and devious enough to pull off my plan anyway." Hank gave an indignant look for a moment.

"What do you mean that Bobby is the only one evil and devious enough? Why can't you pull off your own plan?"

"I'm going to anger management tonight."

"Oh, my stars and garters," Hank broke in, laughing, "What happens if it works? You could become a happy, calm, easygoing, outgoing, person. I wouldn't know how to deal with you."

"So I informed the Professor," Scott said. "Anyway, when I said that Bobby is the only one evil and devious enough. I meant that you're book smart, not evil play with people's heads smart. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm both evil and devious," Hank protested indignantly.

"Hank," Scott stated, shaking his head. "It's okay to admit you're not good at everything. Being evil, devious, and playing with people's heads just isn't something you're good at. That's more a Bobby thing."

Hank scowled and asked, "What's this plan of yours?" Then, when Scott whispered it in his ear, Hank's eyes lit up.

"I'm in," Scott smirked.

"I'll even let everyone think it was your idea from the very beginning." Hank looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I get the tissue sample too?" Scott nodded. 

"I'll give you the blood now and the tissue sample, after the plan has been completed."

"Deal, Mr. Summers. Get on the table. I need some more of your blood."

* * *

"I can't believe I'm going along with this," Jean Grey grumbled out loud, as she played with her car keys.

"If you don't hurry and stop stalling, we're going to be late," Scott informed her, grabbing his coat.

"So you've said at least ten times. I don't want to do this. I don't think I should have to do this. Will Anderson deserved what I did to him."

"Agreed. Will Anderson deserved it. Life's not fair. Just deal with it now, and we better get going." Jean turned to Scott.

"I can't believe you're going along with this. You, of all people, hold tight to your right to be an angry, distant, dysfunctional human being." Scott shrugged as he put on his coat.

"The Professor asked me to. He lets me come to the school for free, and keeps a roof over my head. He doesn't ask much in return for that. If he wants me to take one evening out and go to this awful seminar with you. I'm not going to say no. Besides I may learn something interesting."

As they walked out the door, both of them heard the Professor say in their heads, " _Scott, for the love of God, try to be good tonight._ " Jean blinked at Scott for a moment.

"What did he mean by that?" Scott just raised an eyebrow at her, and shrugged.

* * *

"Hello, everyone. My name is Dr. Tom. I'm the one running this anger management seminar this evening. Now, I want everyone to say, 'Hi, Dr. Tom.'"

"Hi, Dr. Tom!" was the response from everyone one in the room, except Scott, who rolled his eyes.

"Now, I want everyone to form a circle. That's it, everyone. Now I want one person to stand up at a time, and tell me something that you like about yourself." Scott rolled his eyes again at the circle thing.

" _Strike one,_ " he thought. The guy running this thing had all the charm of a snake-oil salesman, and Scott decided right then that Mrs. Anderson had wasted her money. 

"You there." He pointed at Jean, and Scott noticed his eyes never quite made it up to her face. He wondered if Jean caught it.

" _Strike two,_ " Scott thought. He might just have a little fun tonight, after all. Dr. Tom continued.

"Jean, is it? I want you to stand up, and tell everyone what you like about yourself, and be honest." Jean glanced around as she stood up.

"I like to think of myself as a very friendly, out-going person." Dr. Tom nodded at her.

"That was very good. Now I want you to sit down and think about why a friendly, out going person is here tonight. " Dr. Tom turned his attention then to Scott, who was sitting beside Jean.

"Your turn... Scott — can I call you 'Scott'?"

"No," Scott stated dryly.

"Well, Scott, I can't help but notice the color scheme you're wearing tonight — blood-red shirt, black jeans, and a black leather jacket, with red sunglasses that block anyone view of your eyes. That's very interesting." Dr. Tom gave Scott an oily smile.

" _He goes for the shy ones he thinks he can bully. Strike three,_ " Scott thought gleefully. I gave him three strikes, professor. This would be fun."

"Don't you mean hostile?" Scott replied now, raising an eyebrow.

"Why don't you stand up and tell us something you like about yourself," Dr. Tom invited, smiling sweetly.

Scott stood up and announced, "I'm a very bitter, angry, mean-spirited person, and I'm proud of it. I like to be an abusive parent to my inner child, and sometimes, when it snows, I get up extra early so I can shovel snow in my neighbors walkway." With that, Scott turned to the woman sitting next to him.

"Next." Dr. Tom blinked at Scott for a moment.

"Scott, I think you and I need to get to know each other a little better tonight, don't you?" Scott raised an eyebrow.

"No, I don't. Familiarity breeds contempt, Dr. Tom. As least it will on my side." 

Dr. Tom smiled at Scott and said, "I think we have a lot of work to do with you." Scott just forced himself to smile back.

* * *

"Professor, the three of us are going down to Harry's!" Bobby Drake shouted as jumped the last three stairs to land on the entraceway floor. Warren Worthington rolled his eyes as he walked down the stairs after Bobby.

"Calm down, Bobby. I'm sure they heard you in the next state."

"Hank's treating us both to dinner. I want to get there before he changes his mind," Bobby announced.

"I am not planning on changing my mind, Robert," Hank said calmly as he walked down the stairs after Warren. 

"I'm still curious as to why you suddenly decided to treat us," Warren asked suspiciously. Hank smiled.

"I'll fill you in during our walk to Harry's."

"I knew there had to be a catch," Warren said. "I assume we're going after Will Anderson for what he did to Jean?"

"Of course, my dear compatriot. I have a plan."

"Cool," Bobby said gleefully. "I get treated to a malt and I get to screw with Will Andersons' head. It's going to be a good night." Bobby's eyes narrowed at Hank suspiciously.

"I do get the malt, right?" Professor Xavier rolled into the room as Bobby shouted, "Professor!" again at the top of his lungs.

"I heard you the first time, Robert," Xavier said rubbing an ear. "Have fun. No trouble, and stay away from Will Anderson. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." All three announced at once.

"You need not worry, sir," Hank stated, matter-of-factly. "If there is any trouble. I can guarantee that one of us will not be the first to start it. You have my word." Warren and Bobby just nodded in agreement. Xavier narrowed his eyes, studying them.

"You know, if Scott were with you, how you phrased that would worry me."

"He's not, sir," Hank announced. "So you don't have to worry."

* * *

"What we're going to work on tonight is everyone's sense of identity. If you have a strong sense of inner identity, what people say and do to you won't make you angry. When it does make you angry, you'll be able better to deal with your anger." Dr. Tom pointed at a bubble-headed bleached blonde sitting across from Scott.

"Name one thing that gives you a sense of identity." 

" _How droll,_ " Scott thought, as he watched her bite her lip and think how to answer the question. " _Let's hope her head doesn't explode. The sudden release of air pressure would kill everyone for hundreds of square miles._ "

"I'm really good with kids," she replied. 

"Very good! That's something that comes from your inner identity — something no one can take away from you. That's the difference between what identity society gives to you and your own inner identity. Your turn, Jean," Dr. Tom announced. Jean looked at Dr. Tom for a moment, and crossed her arms over her chest. 

"I have no patience for all forms of male stupidity. I really have no patience for men who forget that women do exist from the shoulders up. That's why I take pride in the fact that I put Will Anderson's head through the wall. Dr. Tom, my eyes are a few inches further up my body," she answered.

"That was a very angry response, Jean. We'll come back to you," Dr. Tom purred, and Jean glared back.

"Scott?" Scott smiled at him.

"I take pride in the fact that my underdeveloped sense of identity allows me the flexibility to fit in to any situation. It also allows me not to feel guilty that spiritual bankruptcy is my lifetime goal," Scott announced before barking the word, "Next!" Dr. Tom shot Scott his oily smile. 

"You do realize that you're a very angry young man?" Scott nodded.

"Yes, sir. But it seems you found a whole room full of them. Sucker?" Scott pulled a lollipop out of his jacket and offered it to Dr. Tom, who glared at Scott and shook his head "No."

* * *

"I'm telling you, with this formula, I'll be irresistible to women," Hank McCoy whispered to Warren. Warren leaned in a little closer.

"Why are you telling me this, and why are you telling me this here?" Hank leaned even closer.

"I figure that Worthington Industries may be interested in the discovery, and you know how the Professor feels about these things. That's why I wanted you to meet me here at Harry's, to talk about it."

"You do realize that if this formula does work, it'll be worth billions."

"Billions! You're kidding right?" Bobby Drake suddenly blurted aloud so that everyone in Harry's could hear. The three of them noticed that Will Anderson's head had turned in their direction.

"BOBBY!" both Hank and Warren growled in a controlled whisper.

"Just go back your malt, and keep your mouth shut, okay?" Hank whispered.

"Fine," Bobby stated sullenly.

"Like I said," Warren began again. "If this formula actually works, it'll be worth billions. Have you tested it yet?"

"Not yet," Hank responded. "But I brought the stuff with me. I'm going to test it here tonight, and Hank McCoy is going to get lucky!" Will Anderson had scooted in a little closer, they all noticed.

"That's if this magic, woman-attracting formula of yours works." Bobby Drake said rather loudly with a sneer.

"It'll work, Drake," Hank growled. "Now shut up and pipe down."

"Sure, it will," Bobby responded and stuck out his tongue at Hank.

"You actually have the formula with you?" Warren asked.

"Yes, I do," Hank responded as he pulled out a beaker from under his coat.

"I have to see this stuff work before I call my father in on this," Warren whispered.

"I'm going to use it on myself and show you it does work," Hank replied, taking the lid off the beaker.

"Not so fast, Geek King." Will Anderson's hand suddenly shot out from nowhere and snatched the beaker from Hank.

"Give that back, Will." Hank demanded.

"I don't think so, four eyes," Will sneered. "So this little formula attracts chicks?"

"I can't guarantee that it works on ape men," Hank responded. "Now give me that beaker!" He reached for the beaker in question.

"Will," Warren stated coldly. "Give Hank back his beaker. You have no idea what you're doing."

"I don't think so," Will sneered. "I'm going to take this formula. Then I'm heading up to your snotty school where you keep that hot-blooded little red headed number. I'll teach her a lesson for putting my head through that drywall wall in front of everyone."

"You know, Will?" Bobby sneered. "It should have been brick. Now give Hank back the beaker before you hurt yourself." Will just smirked at Bobby and chugged the beaker's contents.

"Oh, dear," Hank muttered. "Oh my stars and garters, I wouldn't have done that." Warren shook his head at Will.

"You have no idea what you just did."

"Oh really, rich boy?" Will sneered. "What did I just do?" Hank cleared his throat.

"You see, in small quantities, it makes you irresistible to women. But as much as you just drank... " Hank cleared his throat again. "That activates the geek gene." Will sneered at them for a moment.

"What do you mean 'activates the geek gene'?" Warren shook his head at Will.

"What it means is that in about an hour, you'll feel the sudden urge to do long math equations, find pocket protectors a huge turn on, have a sudden dislike for all sports, and find sexy techno-gadgets of all shapes and styles. In other words, there is going to be a new 'Geek King,' and it isn't going to be Hank." Hank gave Will a huge smile.

"Let me be the first one to offer my welcome to geekdom, Newton." Will blinked at them.

"My name's Will, not Newton."

"It was a geek joke," Bobby interjected. "Don't worry. It'll come to you while you're watching Star Trek."

"Yes," Warren said, "In about an hour, you're going to become what you hate and fear the most — a geek."

"Or a witty Trekkie," Bobby added gleefully. Warren raised an eyebrow to ask.

"There's a difference?" Will gave them all panicked looks.

"Undo it right now!" Hank shrugged.

"Can't. Once the gene is activated, you have it for life. Think of it this way, Will, the wonderful, mysterious world of imaginary numbers is going to become shockingly clear for you. You're going to love it." Will just turned and ran out of Harry's.

"You know?" Bobby warned. "He's running home to tell his mother what we did to him." Warren shook his head.

"That means Professor Xavier is going to get a call. I have to congratulate you, Hank. This plan was brilliant — evil, devious, used all of Will's character faults against him, and played on his biggest fear. It was worthy of one of Slim's plans." Hank took a small bow.

"Thank you very much. And oh well, if Professor Xavier hears about this, it was my week to get into trouble anyway. It was worth it just to see the expression on his face." Bobby gave them a considering look.

"It's going to be interesting to see how this turns out. Can I have another malt?"

* * *

"Okay everyone," Dr. Tom announced. "I want you to take a deep, cleansing breath. In with the happy feelings, and exhale to release the anger. Your anger is floating away where it can't hurt you or anyone else. That's it everyone." Dr. Tom opened his eyes and looked at Scott, who was sitting there, sucking on his lollipop.

"Scott," Dr. Tom asked sweetly "Why aren't you doing your breathing exercises with the rest of us?" Scott pulled the lollipop out of his mouth.

"Since I'm a bottomless pit of anger and rage, releasing my anger would probably just suck the life force out of me," Scott announced. "I happen to like the dead winter season that's my inner self, and really do hate change. Besides, if I let all my anger go, what will happen to Earle?" Smirking, Jean peaked at Scott from slit eyes.

Dr. Tom blinked and asked, "Earle?" Scott nodded.

"He's my anger. He was so huge, he took on a life of his own, so I had to name him." Dr. Tom blinked again. 

"You named your anger?" Scott shrugged.

"It seemed like the thing to do at the time. Earle was starting to creep out from under the bed. Last time I tried parting ways, he clogged the vacuum cleaner. I really don't know what I'm going to do with him." Jean tried not to snicker when she noticed that a vein over Dr. Tom's eye was twitching. The man took a deep breath and continued.

"Okay, Scott, I want you to close your eyes and reach for your inner tranquility." Scott raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head.

"Since I'm a messed up person and admit it, tranquility scares me. I much prefer chaos. Chaotic crisis situations are really the only times I feel truly alive." Dr. Tom set his jaw.

"I think it's time we find the root of your anger. If we can find the root, then I can help you find some closure, and you can start to release it." Scott nodded like he was considering Dr. Tom's words.

"Will make it be okay for me to simplify, pigeon-hole every situation, and be judgmental towards other people in my quest for that closure?" Dr. Tom rubbed his head and Jean smirked, wondering if the creep were working on the biggest migraine of his life. Scott just stuck the lollipop back in his mouth.

* * *

"Okay, Tammy," Dr. Tom addressed the bubble-headed bleached blonde. "I want you to name one thing that makes you angry and another that scares you. Most of the time, anger comes from fear. If you can control your fear, you can control the anger that comes from it." Tammy nodded at Dr. Tom.

" _Oh, this exercise IS going to be the one to make her head explode_ ," Scott thought dryly.

"I get really angry that low-fat Sarah Lee pound cake had more fat than their regular pound cake," Tammy replied.

" _That was definitely the deep, well thought-out, socially aware response I was expecting,_ ," Scott thought dryly, and Jean smirked. She must have caught the thought, and Scott sent her another.

" _Clowns to the right of me, jokers to the left, here I am, stuck in the middle with you._ " Jean's smirk got wider.

"As for what scares me, Dr. Tom," Tammy continued. "He does!" She pointed right at Scott, who raised an eyebrow and pulled the lollipop out of his mouth.

"Well, if you'd done all your inner work earlier, Tammy, you'd be better able to handle my apathy, cynicism, and cruelty. So see, it's really your fault for not working harder. Shame on you."

"See!" Tammy announced to Dr. Tom.

"Scott," Dr. Tom stated. "Your anger is driving off people like Tammy."

"That's a bad thing?" Scott replied. "I thought you were trying to encourage me to change."

"Like I was saying," Dr. Tom continued. "Your anger is chasing people off and ruining your chances at making friends. Have you learned anything?" Scott nodded.

"How to crush independent thought and feelings by convincing people that you're helping them. I'll have to try these new techniques next time I find a witless victim." Tammy looked at Scott in horror.

"Why aren't you locked up somewhere for the good of society?"

"My shrink convinced the FBI to release me," Scott stated dryly, and shrugged at Tammy before sticking the sucker back in his mouth. Tammy scooted her chair a few feet out of the circle away from him.

* * *

"Okay everyone," Dr Tom announced. "Do you see this pool ball? I am going to pass it around the circle. I want every one of you to stand up and list what makes you angry. While you're doing the list, I want you to imagine that all of it is sinking into this pool ball. When we're all done, we're going to take the pool ball outside and bury it. It will be a symbol of releasing your anger, letting it go, so it will no longer control your lives. Marvin, we're going to start with you." 

A mousy-looking fellow with glasses took the pool ball and started, "Parking tickets make me angry, and so do supermodels. I also get angry that two pounds of chocolate adds seven pounds to your waistline. I also really get mad at my micromanaging moron of a boss. That's why I threw my phone at him and threaten to kill him." Marvin laughed nervously and handed the pool ball to Scott. Scott studied the pool ball for a moment. 

"I cherish my anger too much even to pretend that I'm going along with this exercise. I think anger is a good thing." Dr. Tom smirked at Scott.

"Oh? Go ahead, Scott, enlighten us. Show us where all your anger comes from, and why you won't release it." Scott studied Dr. Tom for a moment.

"If you insist," Scott then said

"I do. Enlighten us, please." Scott shot a glare at Dr. Tom and began.

"I get angry at people who tell me that I shouldn't get angry about things. I get angry at a society that says children are its first priority, but cuts the budgets for schools first, and I get angry that schools are falling down with ten-year-old textbooks. I get angry that for every thirty children in the foster-care system, there's only one burnt-out, overworked and underpaid social worker to guarantee those children's safety. Fathers who rape their daughters make me angry. Mothers who hurt their children because a child won't stop crying make me angry. I get angry when a child is neglected or harmed by the two people who should protect that child at any cost. I get angry every time I see homeless kids on the street. I get angry when a mob tries to lynch a thirteen-year-old boy because he was unlucky enough to be born different. I get angry that a friend of mine believes he should hide the brilliant, uncanny intelligence he was born with so he can fit in. I get angry every time a man treats a woman like an object and not a person. I get angry at a society that encourages artist to make videos, television shows, and songs that depict violence against woman as cool. I get angry because no person should have to define his or her life by "before" and "after." I get angry with people who don't have anything better to get angry about than parking tickets. I get angry with people who tell me I shouldn't get angry. I like my anger. You know why? It gets me off my ass to do something. People who sit around and do nothing make me really angry, because if you aren't part of the solution, you're part of the problem. Too many people these days would rather just be lazy, and part of the problem. So you see, I like my anger. I use it."

Everyone in the room was very quite, but that's when Scott realized Dr. Tom hadn't heard a word he'd said because he was too busy leering at Jean's chest. Rising, Scott walked over to Jean, and handed her the pool ball.

"Remember, Red, when you aren't part of the solution, you're part of the problem." His eyes met hers for a moment, and they both smiled. Jean got up from her seat.

"Dr. Tom, let me tell you what makes me REALLY angry. Better yet, let me show you."

* * *

"Well, Red," Scott said as he pulled his lollipop out of his mouth. "You really buried that pool ball."

"You know, Slim," Jean replied, sighing. "Maybe I do need anger management." Scott shook his head.

"I don't think you need anger management. You need Calgon to take you away for an evening. That, or to get away from guys for a while; I think our testosterone is starting to warp your mind. My advice would be if someone can't tell you your eye color, dump him. Works for me." Jean raised an eyebrow at that comment.

"Your eyes are always covered up by your glasses. I've known you for a while now, and I don't know your eye color. You'd be dumping everyone." Scott smirked at her.

"See? My system works." Then he got a thoughtful look on his face. "I wonder how long it'll take the emergency room to remove that pool ball from Dr. Tom's mouth?" Jean changed the subject.

"How did you know about this spot? It's glorious up here and you get a beautiful view of the city." They both were sitting on the hood of Jean's car, overlooking the scattered lights of Westchester county. Scott shrugged.

"I found it while out wandering one night. I like to come up here when I want to be alone. The view helps me keep my perspective on things. You're the first person I ever brought up here, Red." Then Scott pulled something out of his pocket and offered it to Jean.

"Sucker?" Jean smirked as she took the lollipop.

"How did you know that grape Blow Pops were my favorite?" Scott shrugged at her again.

"Lucky guess."

"Sure — lucky guess." Scott blushed a little and cleared his throat. "It's still early yet, but we could just head home if you prefer?" Jean shook her head.

"No, it's a beautiful night. I think I'd rather just stay up here and hang out, if that's okay with you?" Scott raised an eyebrow and shrugged. 

"Fine with me; you're the one driving. I'll just warn you now, Miss Grey. If you try any of your fancy moves to take advantage of my innocence and naivety, I'll scream." Jean threw her head back and started laughing.

"Did I ever tell you how happy I am that you're my friend?"

* * *

"I received an hysterical call from Mrs. Anderson tonight. Something about something one of Hank's formulas did to her son. Care to explain, you three?" Charles Xavier demanded coldly while studying the three students standing in his office. Hank McCoy shrugged.

"We had a little harmless fun. What Will Anderson drank was just Bobby's slushy favoring with some food color added. That's it, sir." Professor Xavier narrowed his eyes.

"Nothing? Nothing that will make his hair fall out, or his skin turn some exotic color?"

"No, sir," Hank said. "There was nothing in it but food coloring and slushy flavoring." Xavier rubbed his head for a moment.

"Then what has both Will and his mother so hysterical?" Bobby cleared his throat.

"We, uh, sorta convinced him that it was a geek-making formula." Xavier just blinked.

"A geek formula?" Warren shrugged.

"We told him that the formula activates the geek gene." Xavier blinked again.

"Activates the geek gene?"

"Yes, sir," all three of them responded.

"Dismissed!" Xavier announced, shaking his head. "If I didn't know better, I would swear that Scott had something to do with this. Will and his mother will figure out you pulled one over on him eventually. Now, the three of you get out of my office, before I change my mind about punishing you."

"Yes, sir," they responded as they headed out.

On the other side of the closed door, Bobby Drake said, "That went better than I thought it would."

"I have to agree," Warren added. "Let's vanish before he changes his mind." And Bobby and Warren quickly headed down the hall. Yet as Hank turned to follow them, he swore he heard laughter behind the Professor's office door.


	9. Boy Scouts, Sex, and Other Mysterious Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's parole officer Carol talks him and his fellow students into a camping trip with other "problem" kids, to serve as an example. Insight occurs all around, as well as poison sumac, a drunk Jean, Scott all hot-and-bothered, and a fateful canoe trip.

"Scott, pay attention!" Charles Xavier snapped. "I am _not_ teaching this class again."

Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses and said, "Yes, sir."

" _Tab A goes in to slot B_ ," he thought to himself. " _How difficult is that to figure out? Anyone with a brain would know where all the pieces went, and how._ " It was all the stuff that led up to that point that confused him. He'd never quite understood how the simple process of reproduction could be the center of a teenager's existence. It all boiled down to, what, about five seconds of gratification? He'd never really grasped the pull. This whole messy process was the one thing a teenager lived for? It didn't make any sense. It really seemed like a complete waste of energy and resources to him. Hormonal urges just distracted you from your primary objectives, confused your thinking process, and wasted energy.

A date Warren had set him up with once accused him of being a dead, cold fish. Maybe she was right. He had never really put any thought in to what she had said to him before. All Scott really remembered from that awful date was the fact that the girl never shut up and her nose was too big for her face. Maybe there was something wrong with him? There had to be, when the only thing he could remember from his first date was the fact that he wasn't quite sure how much of the girl had been real and how much had been plastic. The evil little voice inside his head had kept calling her "Barbie" all evening. That and she droned on and on and wouldn't shut up. It was the first and last date he had ever gone on.

"Scott, I told you to pay attention to this lecture. I am not going over this material again," Professor Xavier snapped. Professor Xavier suddenly turned an icy glare towards Warren, who was raising his hand gleefully.

"Yes?" Xavier asked. Scott didn't quiet catch Warren's question, but Scott was sure that he had never seen the Professor turn that shade of red before. He did catch the "I'll get you for this" glare that Professor Xavier shot Warren after Warren asked his question. Scott shook his head and let his mind wander again.

Warren had once told him that to understand the pull, he needed to understand women. Fine, information gathering was something Scott could comprehend. To understand the enemy, you needed to learn about the enemy. Before you could anticipate the enemy's next move, you had to understand them. After doing some heavy research, which included wasting an afternoon in the bookstore's romance section, Scott had come to the very logical conclusion that women did not make any sense. A strategy that worked for one woman would not work for another. The only thing that made him feel better was the fact that most other men didn't have a clue either. It was nice to know he was floundering with the rest of the male side of the species.

Scott had come to the conclusion that dating, like warfare, was all based on deception. Dating and warfare both depended upon making the other person see and think what you wanted them to think. Hence, men wore ties, and women wore makeup. The thing that confused Scott was what, in the end, did women want you to think? If you cannot understand an enemy, you cannot hope to defeat it; and if you cannot defeat your enemy, your best tactical option is to escape and elude the enemy. What baffled Scott was that sometimes, the harder you tried to elude, the harder some women tried to get you. Women just did not make good sense, tactically.

"All right," Xavier suddenly snapped, slamming his book shut. "I think everyone has had quite enough." Xavier glared at Warren.

"I know I have." Warren gave Xavier the sweetest smile in return. "Everyone is dismissed. I have an appointment with Carol this afternoon, so if anyone has any questions, I will be free to answer them this evening. Dismissed."

"Carol's coming," Bobby Drake chanted as he jumped around the living room. Scott rolled his eyes and tried to concentrate on the book he was trying to read. Hank sat on the couch snickering, and Warren was shaking his head, amused. Hank started sniffing the air, and glared at Bobby.

"Are you wearing my aftershave?" he asked suspiciously. Bobby ignored that question.

"Carol's so nice, funny, and she has the most glorious smile. Do you think she might notice me?" Warren rolled his eyes and groaned at that question.

"Carol's pretty job oriented, Bobby. She would only notice you if she thought you were a youth in trouble." Hank glared at Bobby.

"If that's my good aftershave, Drake's going to be a youth in trouble, all right."

"Okay, I'll bite," Jean announced looking up from the homework she was working on. "Who's Carol?"

"Carol's nice, funny, has a great sense of humor and she's a wonderful person," Bobby announced. Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

"Carol's my parole officer. She comes up here to get a status report once a month. She's young, just out of school, perky, idealistic, and determined that she can save every troubled child. I can deal with her being young and right out of school. It's the cheerful, idealistic and perky part that I have a hard time with. She's part of the juvenile justice system for God's sake, they're not supposed to be idealistic. Carol's a freak anomaly. I hate anomalies." Bobby glared at Scott for that remark. 

"Carol's great."

Scott raised an eyebrow at Bobby and stated dryly, "No one is that perky without artificial means — a lot of artificial means."

"Oh, no," Warren announced with a smirk "A woman is already coming between the two of you." Right then, the Professor entered alongside a woman who had to be Carol. She was a short, perky blond, with the bluest eyes Jean had ever seen. Jean did a quick scan with her telepathic senses; Carol was pretty on the inside too. The woman saw Scott and gave him the widest smile.

"Hey Scott. I'm so pleased with your progress so far. Charles was filling me in on it. I'm going to have a great report to file."

Scott nodded at her and said, "Thanks." Carol's smiled got wider.

"So what have you been doing besides studying, Scott?" Scott studied Carol for a moment, and then spoke in a monotone.

"Well, on my off time, I've saved the world a couple of times from evil mutants. I joined a cult and then overthrew its leader because he was badly mistreating his people. That, of course, is after the head of the cult tried to sacrifice me to a demon. After I overthrew the old leader, the members of the cult voted me their leader. I made everyone get jobs and outlawed human sacrifice. I helped them fix up their boarding house and open a soup kitchen for the homeless in its basement. I also organized a band for them, and they're playing at the children's hospital cancer ward benefit next month. Other than that, not much; it's been a slow month." Carol smirked at Scott and turned to Charles.

"He's learning to express a sense of humor." Charles gave Carol a nervous smile and glared at Scott.

"Yes, Scott is learning to express a sense of humor — a very dry one." Scott gave the Professor a completely innocent look.

"That's me, sir, life of the party." Carol just smiled at him.

"All I have to do is teach you how to smile now." Scott just gave Carol a cold look.

"Putting a smile on my face is like putting pastel colors on Wednesday Adams. Some things should just never be done." Carol smirked at that.

"Anyway, that's not the reason I tracked you down. I talked this idea over with Charles, and he thought it might be a good idea. I'm running a weekend getaway for troubled youth. I think it would be great if you could come out with us and give these kids an example of someone just like them, who turned his life around. All the kids are non-violent first time offenders, and I think you could do a lot of good coming with us. I'll knock the time off your community service. What do you say?" Scott studied Carol for a moment.

"I won't have to give any speeches, will I?" Carol shook her head.

"Nope, all you need to do is come along and be your charming self. You're friends are invited to come along, too, if they want. Volunteer work always looks great on any college application. The ivory league schools look for it."

"I'll go," Hank McCoy added in gleefully.

"I'll go too," Bobby chipped in excitedly. "We can help drag those kids back on the straight and narrow, just like we did Scott. It sounds like fun." Scott glared at Bobby.

"Dragged me back on the straight and narrow? Don't you mean 'nagged' me back to the straight and narrow?" Bobby stuck his tongue out at Scott for that remark.

"I'll go," Jean stated. "I would love just to get out of here for the weekend."

"I'll go to. I'd hate to be the only one stuck around here," Warren suddenly added. Hank shot Warren a questioning look.

"I thought you were going home this weekend?" Warren sighed. "I was — long story." Scott shook his head and sighed.

"I guess I'll go as long as I don't have to do any public speaking." Carol gave them all a wide smile.

"That's great! We're going to have so much fun! Just you wait and see! Just wait till you meet these kids! I'll be by on Friday at noon to pick up the five of you." Carol turned to leave, then turned around again when she hit the doorway.

"Oh, and Scott." Scott raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "Try to pack a smile or two to bring with you, will you?" Scott scowled at her for that remark, but Carol just smiled back at him, then walked out the door.

* * *

The van pulled up Friday right at noon, as Carol had promised. Jean watched as Carol and three other kids piled out of the van, and Carol jogged up to Scott and his friends.

"Is everyone packed and ready to go?" Bobby nodded.

"Yup! We even bullied Scott into bringing his guitar." Carol gave them all a wide smile.

"That's great! Scott, shame on you; you never told me you could play." Scott sighed.

"You never asked, and it never came up."

"Okay, everyone gather around. I only want to make introductions once," Carol shouted as she gestured to the other three kids.

"Sue, Bruno, and José, I want you guys to meet Hank, Bobby, Warren, Jean and..." Carol paused, wrapping her arm around Scott, who stiffened at the contact.

"This is Scott. He's the one I've told you so much about. You all can learn so much from him; that's why I asked him to come with us this weekend."

"So we finally get to meet the Boy Scout," Bruno sneered at Scott, then looked at Bobby. "Oh look, he brought a pet, too."

"Bruno," Scott scoffed. "What an original thug name." Bruno sent another sneer in Scott's direction.

"I don't like you, skinny." Scott smiled back at Bruno sweetly.

"I don't like you, either."

"Oh my stars and garters," Hank broke in. "Under thirty seconds — I think that's a new Scott record for instant dislike."

"Okay everyone," Carol broke in. "Break it up! I have to go talk to Charles before we leave. I will be just a minute. Everyone behave while I'm gone." With that, Carol jogged towards the door of the mansion. Bruno glared at Scott.

"While Little-Miss-Goodie-Two-Shoes is gone, I'm going to make myself perfectly clear. Make sure you keep yourself and your pet away from me. Mess with me, and you're both going to regret it."

"Hey, jerk!" Bobby injected.

"Bobby," Scott said calmly. "Let me handle this." He turned and walked up to Bruno, looking him straight in the eye.

"Since we are making ourselves perfectly clear, Bruno, let me tell you how it is. You're going to be polite and respectful to everyone going on this trip. You're also going to leave Bobby and me alone."

"Or?" Bruno sneered.

"Or I'm going to wipe the ground with you, punk," Scott stated in a very calm, very deadly tone. "I'm tired of your insult throwing, bad attitude, delinquent wannabe, whiney-ass, momma's boy, country-music-reject self already. If you don't behave, I'm going to take the nearest blunt object — something close to the size of Warren, Hank, and their tents — and stuff it up your largest body crevice. I don't like bullies, and I won't tolerate them. Bullies tend to bring out the worst in me. Did I make myself perfectly clear to you, Bruno?" Bruno was taken back for a moment. 

"I'm supposed to be worried about that threat?" Scott just continued to look Bruno coldly in the eye.

"Try me."

"Well," the boy Carol had introduced as José added in. "Apparently, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." 

" _José had a very nice smile_ ," Jean thought. Warren gave José his most charming smile in turn.

"Slim tends to live there, I'm afraid." José just shot Warren a nervous smile back.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Do that," Warren replied coldly. Sue also bestowed a wide smile on Scott.

" _Sue could be very pretty_ ," Jean thought, " _If she took off some of the make up she had piled on._ "

"So, Scott, you play the guitar?" Sue asked. Scott just turned his head to glare at her.

"Yes." Sue shot Scott an even wider smile and started batting her eyelashes at him. Jean decided right then that she and Sue were going to have issues.

"Carol's told me so much about you, it's like I almost know you already." Scott just glared at her again.

"Doubtful," he retorted. Sue batted her eyelashes harder.

"I bet you're a cornucopia of hidden talents. I bet you're a regular genie in a bottle." Scott continued to glare.

"You're managing to rub me the wrong way." An even wider smile.

"And you have a great sense of humor too." Before Scott could respond, Carol came walking out the front door of the mansion.

"Is everyone ready to go?" Carol asked.

"Very," Scott announced dryly.

"Great! Everyone pile up in the van and we're out of here."

* * *

Jean tried to get the seat next to Scott, but Sue got it first. Sue was smiling at Scott and Scott was glaring at Sue.

"Looks like we'll be sitting next to each other for the ride there, Scott," Sue announced. Jean did some quick calculations in her head to see if she could ram Sue out of one the van's windows telekinetically.

"Apparently," Scott said wryly. Sue just grinned at Scott.

"I'm just going to have to keep close tabs on you all weekend." Scott looked like he was considering trying to ram himself out the nearest van window.

"You have no idea what type of instinctive reactions that thought calls up in me, Sue." Sue continued to smile, not snagging the hint.

"When I'm around you, do I give you butterflies?"

"Oh, you manage to affect my stomach all right," Scott replied. Sue's smile got wider and she batted her eyelashes again at Scott.

"Here, let me help you with your seat belt, Scott."

"Kindly, get your hands off of me!" Jean heard Scott bark coldly. Jean then looked out of the van window as the van pulled out of the mansion's drive, and vaguely wondered where the cloud of doom that was following them was hiding.

* * *

"We're here, everyone! We're going to have so much fun. Is everyone ready to do some camping!" Carol shouted as the van came to a stop and she jumped out. Scott looked out the window. Some higher power had a sense of humor — Scott Summers was at a Boy Scout Camp. While looking out the window, Scott vaguely wondered whether he would catch fire and implode into dust like a vampire in contact with a holy object, if he stepped out of the vehicle. He just continued to sit there and study the place, as some of the others jumped out and started unloading.

"Oh, this is charming," Warren, said sarcastically. "All I need is coveralls, a can of spray paint, and a water tower. I could go native." Scott smirked at Warren.

"I can't help but notice you're wearing the same dark blue color as a Cub Scout's uniform." Warren shrugged.

"I couldn't help myself; the irony was just too tempting."

"Yes," Scott said, shaking his head as he continued to look out the window. "The irony of the two of us being here didn't escape me either." Warren gave Scott a mock snotty look.

"Warren Worthington the Third at a Boy Scout camp. Whatever will people think?" Warren's look suddenly got thoughtful. "Do you think they have some sort of list that says who can come to one of their camps? After some of the stunts I pulled at prep school, I mean if they do have some banned-for-life list, my name is certainly on it."

"Come one you two," Bobby grumbled, hopping out of the van. "Stop stalling and help us unload."

"Indeed," Hank stated as he jumped out next. "I haven't been to a Boy Scout camp in years. The last time I was at a Boy Scout Camp was when I became an Eagle Scout. My dad and I went together." That's when Sue came up and threw her arms around Scott's shoulders. Scott stiffened, and turned his head to glare at her.

"Are you an Eagle Scout, Scott?" Scott shot her a very irritated look.

"No. I never made it past turkey," he snapped. Then he glared at the arm that was thrown around his shoulders.

"What did I tell you about the touching me thing?" Sue blinked her eyes at him, ignoring that statement.

"Will you help me put my tent up?" Scott continued to glare at her.

"Only if I can tie you up with it and throw you in the lake." Sue just gave him a coy look.

"Do you have a thing for knots? I was a Girl Scout, you know. I know a few knots that could come in very handy at securing things." Scott snapped his head around to look at Sue with an expression of absolute horror on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped his mouth shut again. Sue just blinked suggestively at him in response. Scott, in one smooth move, scooted across the seat away from Sue and bolted out of the van. Jean turned around in her seat so she could look at Sue.

"I'll help you put your tent up, Sue," Jean said sweetly, in a tone that Warren recognized as containing lots of menace. "Let's go start putting it up right away. The guys can stay and unload the heavy stuff." Jean grabbed Sue's forearm and started dragging her out of the van.

"You're hurting me," Sue protested, as Jean pulled her from the van.

"Am I?" Jean asked innocently. Warren just shook his head as he climbed out of the van after. This was going to be a very interesting weekend.

* * *

"So you think you can carry that all by yourself Skinny, or do you think you're going to need some help with that?" Scott just shot Bruno a look, picked up the backpack, pretended not to be able to handle it, and smacked Bruno hard in the gut with it. Bruno went sprawling on to the ground.

"Whoops," Scott said innocently. "I guess it might have been heavier than I first thought. Sorry about that."

From where he was sitting on the ground, Bruno threatened, "You had better watch your little pet, Skinny."

"Skinny," Scott retorted sarcastically. "That's so original. Allow me a moment to bask in your radiant brilliance."

"Okay, you two," Carol shouted as she ran over. "Break it up." Carol turned and addressed Scott.

"I'm making you responsible for the music tonight." Then she addressed both of them.

"We're going to have a cook out, sing songs, and roast marshmallows. Doesn't that sound like a great time, you two? Scott just needs to come up with a couple of great songs everyone knows the words to and can sing along with. Everyone will have a great time tonight. Just you two wait and see!" Scott gave Carol a innocent look.

"I think I have a song running through my head already."

"You do? That's great!" Carol said excitedly, jumping up and down. "What is it? That way I can go ask around and see if everyone knows the words." Scott looked down at Bruno and sneered.

"How about 'I Hate Everything About You' by Ugly Kid Joe?"

* * *

"Well, I was thinking about getting a tattoo. What do you think I should get?" Bobby asked, as they hiked along towards the location they would be camping for the night. Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

Knowing that all Bobby wanted a tattoo for was to impress Carol, he replied, "How about 'Kick Me'?" Bobby stuck his tongue out at that response.

"You're just cranky because Sue asked you if you liked to rock, as in a woman's world. You're a regular girl magnet, Scott," Bobby said, an impish expression on his face. "It must be the glasses. Women just can't help themselves." Scott turned and glared at him.

"You know Bobby, I'm already picturing wrapping you in duct tape and throwing you in the lake."

"Hey, you two!" Carol shouted, waving as she jogged up to them. "I'm impressed. I thought I was in great shape, but you two are putting up a killer pace and not showing any sign of slowing down. You two have full gear too." She was gasping.

"How about we stop here and take a rest and let the others catch up? How much hiking do the two of you do anyway?" Bobby just shrugged.

"We go hiking almost every weekend. Jean and Warren usually go home to visit their families. Hank's usually in his lab, and Scott and I go out and hike. Scott tends to set a killer pace." Carol nodded at that response.

"Tell me about it. Bobby why don't you backtrack and hustle the others along? I'm going to rest here with Scott and try to catch my breath." Bobby just nodded and headed back down the trail.

"Good, now that we're alone," Carol began, and Scott rolled his eyes; here it came. "I'm asking you to try to be a little nicer to Bruno, okay? I know it's not an easy task, and he's not the most pleasant person you'll ever meet. Bruno's not a bad kid Scott. Yes, I know he's a bully, but he's only acting out what he knows. What his father taught him."

"So?" Scott growled. "That makes it okay for him to threaten to hurt Bobby? That makes it okay for him to threaten to hurt someone younger than he is?"

"No, of course not," Carol responded. "But Bruno has only threatened, and he actually hasn't made a move to hurt Bobby. That leaves a lot of room for you to let it slide off your back and compromise until he actually tries something. If Bruno tries to hurt Bobby, you won't be the first one to trounce him. Trust me." Scott glared at her for that remark.

"Compromise, in my experience, has always been another word for 'lose.'" Carol shook her head sadly.

"You are so wrong, Scott. Compromise most times is the only way everyone wins. Bruno is acting out the lessons that his drunken, abusive father taught him. Don't act out the lessons that Jack taught you. Don't let Jack win like that." Her face suddenly got that perky look that Scott had learned to dread.

"Let's sing a song while we're waiting for the others! Come on, Scott, I know you know the words!" Carol suddenly broke out in to a round of "Why Can't We Be Friends." Scott eyed a rock about the size of his fist on the ground by Carol's feet and wondered if she'd notice if he beat himself unconscious with it.

* * *

"Sue, I'm so sorry," Jean declared sweetly. "I didn't see you when I swung that tent pole around. I didn't mean to brain you like that." Sue smiled sweetly right back at Jean and glared.

"I'm sure you didn't." Sue turned to look at Scott. "Will you kiss it and make it feel better? The lump really hurts." Scott just glared at her.

"I wouldn't kiss you even if you promised to sleep in a pit of mean, hungry scorpions. Better yet I wouldn't kiss you even if you took a full bottle of sleeping pills, set yourself on fire, jumped out a fifty-story window, and hit a live, high-voltage wire on the way down in to a pool." Sue smiled at him and blinked her eyes suggestively.

"I think you're just shy." Scott snorted and glared at Sue. Sue continued to smile.

"I understand you like to study World War II, Scott. Do you like the Pacific or the European front?" Scott blinked at her in surprise for a moment, and then got a thoughtful look on his face.

"You like World War II?" Sue nodded.

"My Grandfather was a commander in the Pacific. It's been a hobby of mine for years. I told you, Scott, we do have a lot in common." Jean caught the thoughtful look that Scott was giving Sue. That wasn't going to do at all.

"Scott, come help me put up my tent," Jean said, as she gave his arm a good yank. Scott went flying off the rock where he and Sue were sitting.

"Whoa! Red, you're hurting me," he said, as Jean dragged him across the camp away from Sue.

"Am I?" Jean asked sweetly.

* * *

"Can I help you with that?" Jean, struggling to put up her tent, turned around and saw José standing there. She nodded you him.

"If you could hold this line for me, I'd be really grateful." José gave her a charming smile worthy of one of Warren's. He was very good looking in a very Spanish sort of way with black hair and ink-black eyes you could just drown in.

"Where'd your friend go anyway?" José asked. Jean rolled her eyes.

"Scott went to go look for Bobby. He still doesn't trust Bruno not to try something." José gave her another charming smile.

"Your friend must have forgotten a very important, unspoken rule."

Jean tilted her head and asked, "What rule?" José's smile got a little wider.

"Never leave a beautiful woman to put up a tent all by herself." Jean gave him a smirk.

"I don't think anyone ever taught Scott that rule. He told me — and I'll quote him here — 'It would be to your own strategic advantage to learn to put a tent up without assistance.' Just in case I ever found myself in a situation where I was alone and requiring shelter." José gave her a thoughtful look.

"Are you sure he didn't mean to just blow you off?" Jean chuckled humorlessly.

"If we were talking about any other guy but Scott, I'd say yes. Scott never says anything he doesn't mean, and exactly how he says it is exactly how he means it. I remember I took him shopping with me once. I came out modeling a dress and asked him what he thought of it. Scott just looked up from the book he was reading and stated dryly, 'I won't bother waking you. I'll just leave the twenty on the dresser.' Scott hasn't learned the fine art of being subtle. You never ask his opinion unless you want a blunt, honest answer." José gave her a thoughtful look as he yanked on the line he was holding.

"He must be a blast at parties." Jean gave him an amused look.

"Oh, he is. Scott once told me, there are people who put the sweet in life, and there are people who put the spice in life. Scott then stated that Dr. Seuss wrote about people like him when he wrote the line 'triple-decker toadstool and sauerkraut sandwich, with arsenic sauce.'"

"Jean!" Bobby shouted as he ran up to her. "I'm so happy I found you. I need you to be my inner voice of reason and maturity." Jean blinked at Bobby.

"Your inner voice of reason and maturity?" Bobby nodded.

"You know, like the professor would be. I need something to counterbalance my inner brat."

"Okay?" was all Jean responded. Bobby took a deep breath.

"Well, Bruno has been giving me a hard time. I need you to tell me all the reasons I shouldn't do something nasty to him in return." Jean raised an eyebrow.

"What would Slim say?" Bobby gave her a thoughtful expression.

"Don't get caught?" Jean shook her head.

"What would the Professor say?" Bobby bit his lip for a moment.

"That doing something mean and petty to Bruno would be putting me on his same level."

"And?" Jean pressed. Bobby gave her another thoughtful expression.

"I've decided to go with my inner brat on this one. To quote Slim, 'To hell with transcending. Who wants to be a better person?' Sorry, Jean. I can live with being on Bruno's level. Thanks for trying."

"Anytime," Jean said dryly. Bobby gave her a wide smile.

"Hank's been showing me all the knots he learned when he was at Boy Scout camp. I think it's time I show Hank what I learned at Boy Scout camp. I think Hank will get a big kick out of it."

Jean watched Bobby as he trotted off, and muttered out loud, "Why do I suddenly feel very sorry for Bruno?"

* * *

"You cross the line like this, then you pull it through, and here we have a secure knot," Hank announced.

"That's great Hank," Bobby said.

"Out of my way runt," Bruno announced, pushing Bobby out of the way. "If I catch you near me, I'm going to trounce you, got it? You're friend isn't around to protect you." Bobby just nodded innocently at Bruno. Bruno snorted and crawled inside his tent.

Bobby shot Hank a wide smile and asked, "Would you like to see what I learned at Boy Scout camp?"

"Sure. What did you learn, Robert?" Bobby walked over to Bruno's tent.

"Take this knot, if you yank this end of the line, the knot just comes right undone."

"Really?" Hank asked innocently. Bobby nodded.

"The funny thing about this line. If you let it go, " Bobby said, letting the line go. "It just happens to be the line holding the support poles up and the whole tent falls down." The tent then fell down like a badly supported house of cards. From inside the tent Bruno shouted as he struggled to get out.

"When I get out of here and get my hands on you runt, you are going to be so sorry!" Hank smirked at Bobby, trying to keep a straight face.

"How does being an agent of Satan pay these days?" Bobby just smirked back and shrugged.

"Pretty good." Then a pout crossed Bobby's face, as he turned to watch Bruno struggle to get out of his tent. "But Slim's made my duties largely ceremonial, so I just don't get as much field work as I'd like."

* * *

Warren was sitting out on a rock, taking a drag of his cigarette, and watching the sunset, when a voice barked out.

"I thought you quit?" Warren jumped about a foot, almost falling off the rock he was sitting on.

"Damn it, Scott, can you walk anymore quietly? You scared the hell out of me." In response, Scott just put his hands on his hips, and glared at the cigarette in Warren's hand.

"Bobby might catch you with that thing." Warren sighed.

"That's why I came up here to be alone. I don't want Bobby seeing me," he said, flicking some ash off his cigarette. "As for quitting, I am. It's called stepping down. It's a horrible filthy habit I picked up at a prep school. It screws up my high altitude flying; it also messes up my long distance endurance. It makes my breath and clothes smell like an ashtray, my teeth turn yellow, and most likely will give me some form of throat or face cancer someday. Just for the vanity aspects, I'm quitting." Warren got a very bitter expression on his face.

"Not to mention that it makes one of my father's fat, obnoxious, stuck-up friends even richer." Warren studied the pack of cigarettes he had.

"Oh wait, I think we own stock in this particular brand of death stick," he said bitterly, with a sneer. "Beer and cigarettes, sure stocks during a recession." Scott studied Warren for a moment

"If I pretend to care, do you want to talk about it?" Scott asked. Warren smirked at Scott.

"Since you're pretending to care, my dad cancelled out on the three-week ski trip we had planned for summer break. He used the usual line of an 'important business meeting came up, and I'll make it up to you.' That's why I didn't go home this weekend. I didn't want to sit there and listen to my mom defend him." Scott got a thoughtful look on his face.

"Do you ever wonder that the only difference between the haves and the have-nots is that with the have-not's, nobody pretends to care?" Warren's face wore a bitter half-smirk.

"All the time. Would you be interested in going to Switzerland for our three-week summer break?" Scott bit his lip, then turned his head and looked in the direction of the sunset. Warren could tell Scott was seriously considering his offer.

After a few moments, Scott shook his head and said, "I can't go. I already bought a bus ticket to Nashville, and I can't exchange it." Warren blinked.

"Nashville, as in Tennessee?" Scott nodded, turning a little pink.

"While everyone was out on break, I was going down to Graceland for a week." A smile broke out on Warren face.

"Graceland, Scott? You are full of surprises."

"You're welcome to come along with me if you want," Scott offered. Warren took another drag on his cigarette.

"How about this? I'll go down to Nashville with you. I've never been down there and it sounds like fun. Since I'm dragging myself along, I'll pay for the hotel rooms. Warren Worthington doesn't do Best Western. We'll spend a week down in Tennessee like you planned. Then from Nashville, we'll catch a flight to Switzerland, and we'll spend the rest of our break trying to cause international incidents with Swiss sky bunnies." Scott was very quiet as he considered the offer for a few moments.

"Deal," he finally said. "Someone needs to keep you out of trouble when you're in one of these moods." Warren studied Scott for a moment.

"If I pretend to care, you want to talk about it?" Scott scowled at him.

"I was looking for Bobby."

"And?" Warren prompted. Scott's scowl deepened.

"Explain women to me." Warren almost inhaled his cigarette.

"What?" he croaked. Scott tapped his foot impatiently.

"You heard me. You have much more field experience in this area. Women do not make logical sense." Warren blinked at him.

"Logical sense?" Scott rolled his eyes.

"Darwin argues that physical attraction is nature's way of passing desirable traits down through generations and ensuring a species' survival. Females of every species look for mates that have favorable traits that would help their offspring survive."

"You're trying to explain women in the context of Darwin's theories?" Warren choked. Scott scowled at Warren again.

"Are you listening or not?" Warren nodded.

"So," Scott continued, "women should logically pursue mates who have traits they want their offspring to inherit. Take social standing and good looks — women should logically pursue you." Warren blinked in shock.

"Thanks. I'm flattered."

"If a woman wanted her offspring to inherit intelligence, Hank would be the logical male to pursue," Scott went on. "If a woman wanted a good-natured personality, Bobby would be the logical choice. I have no traits a woman should find desirable to pass on to her offspring. Evolutionally speaking, I'm a total waste of energy to pursue."

"Funny. I don't remember the Professor going into Darwin in great depth," Warren announced in a baffled tone. Scott sighed.

"In the orphanage where I grew up, the head of it made us memorize Darwin and Nietzsche. I can recite their works backward and forward. He was really into the concept of survival of the fittest. Ran the orphanage that way, too." Warren shook his head in disbelief.

"Did he have a German accent and show you Nazi brainwashing propaganda in his secret basement lab?" Scott shrugged.

"The kids at the orphanage had a bet going about the noises we heard coming out of the basement sometimes."

"I'll keep that in mind," Warren said wryly, taking another drag. "The problem is that you sabotage your own argument by stating woman are not logical, but then you try to analyze them logically."

"Still," Scott stated, shaking his head. "Human beings are self-centered creatures. We understand the basics of cost-benefit instinctively. Let's take it in context of a battlefield." Warren rolled his eyes.

"Okay."

"If you have to take a well fortified position, you would calculate how many resources are needed to take it. If the cost were greater than the benefits of gaining that position, you would not logically try to take it. Evolution is one huge battle for survival. Why waste valuable resources pursuing a male who will not give your offspring the greatest genetic payoff in the long run?" Warren let out a deep breath.

"Why does a woman stay with a drunk? There are no benefits to her offspring in doing that either. People are not logical, no matter how we try to explain their behavior that way. We're more than just instincts and logic." Scott sighed and scowled. 

"Women and love completely baffle me." Warren smirked as he took another drag.

"Welcome to being male, my friend." Warren suddenly got a very thoughtful expression on his face. "Honestly, I don't understand love either. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you and I tend to keep people at a distance. Hence, I only date bimbos, and you avoid the whole messy affair like a toxic chemical spill. For us to really start understanding love, we'd need to drop the walls and let someone in close enough to hurt us. Better yet, use us. And both of us are a little too world weary to do that." Scott absorbed that for a moment.

"I'm starting to understand why the great philosophers and poets that tried to comprehend women either went crazy, killed someone, killed themselves, or started drinking heavily." Warren started chuckling.

"Yes, women tend to be able to do that to us. Then they wonder why men start wars." Warren threw his cigarette to the earth and ground it out with his foot. "If it makes you feel any better Scott, I don't think women have any more of a clue about how we think. Women just think they understand us better. It's actually reassuring in a way to know they're also floundering around. So did this little talk help you out at all?" Scott sighed.

"No." Warren smirked at him.

"Good. I'd hate to think I gave you an unfair advantage over the rest of us. Come on, I'll walk back with you before someone comes looking for us." Scott nodded and started walking down the trail.

"Scott, can I give you one good, solid piece of advice?" Warren asked. Scott stopped, turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"For your sake," Warren continued, "I would try very hard to forget everything that Nazi ever tried to teach you."

Scott was very quiet for a moment, and suddenly replied, "I've been trying to do that for years."

* * *

"Then the roundworm said to the hookworm, 'Are you free tonight, or are you latched right in there?'" Hank McCoy was across the bonfire holding his sides, overtaken by laughter. Scott glared at him.

"Is that your last joke, or do I have to buy your silence by ripping out your spleen, pinning it to a tree, and letting the wild animals gnaw on it?"

"Thank you," Bobby grumbled, as he stuffed a hotdog into his mouth. "I couldn't take another one." Hank gave Scott a snotty look.

"You just don't have any appreciation for a good intellectual joke."

Scott raised an eyebrow and replied, "I do when I hear one." Carol playfully smacked Scott on the arm.

"Oh, come on Scott; the joke was cute. Not necessarily funny, but it was cute. Why don't you try smiling?"

"Because it takes all my dark energies of cynicism, apathy, and sarcasm to keep perkiness and fun in check," he answered straight-faced. "It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it. What would humanity ever do with a fun-filled, perfect world anyway?" Carol shook her head.

"You know, Scott, one of these days I'm going to see you smile." Scott studied her for a moment.

"The odds of a miracle, though infinitely small, are not exactly zero."

"Why don't you try to say something cheerful? I bet once you do, you'll feel great!" Scott scowled.

"For tonight only, I will try not to keep a mental tab running in my head of other people's stupidity."

Shooting Scott a wide smile, Carol replied, "We'll work on it. Why don't you go get your guitar and play us all something?" Scott's reply was quick and to the point.

"No." That's when Jean looked up from where she was roasting a marshmallow across the fire.

"Please, Scott, for me?" Scott sighed.

"For you, Red, and only for you." Scott headed over to his tent for his guitar, then quickly made his way back to the fire.

As Scott was tuning his guitar, Sue asked, "Are you going to delight us tonight, Scott? I bet you're just great at delighting people." Scott looked up from where he was tuning the guitar.

"Doubtful," he replied. "Most days, I can hardly find the energy to tolerate them." Jean studied the melting marshmallow on her stick. She sat there and wondered how long it would take Sue to get it out of her hair, if her marshmallow "accidentally" ended up on Sue's head.

"I know," Bobby butted in. "Why don't you play some of the rebel music I like to listen to. Just to show Carol what type of rebellious kid she's dealing with here." Scott rolled his eyes and started stringing "Puff the Magic Dragon." Soda came shooting out of both Warren and Hank's noses, and they both started howling.

"Very funny," Bobby growled under his breath. Then Scott's eyes met Jean's right before his song started. Jean recognized the Sting tune almost immediately.

  
_You could say I lost my faith in science and progress  
You could say I lost my belief in the holy church  
You could say I lost my sense of direction  
You could say all of this and worse but  
If I ever lose my faith in you  
There'd would be nothing left for me to do  
Some would say I'm a lost man in a lost world  
You can say I lost my faith in the people on TV  
You can say I'd lost my belief in our politicians  
They all seem like game show host to me  
If I ever lose my faith in you  
There'd would be nothing left for me to do  
I could be lost inside their lies without a trace  
But every time I close my eyes I see your face  
I never saw no miracle of science  
That didn't go from a blessing to a curse  
I never saw no military solution  
That didn't end up as something worse  
Let me say this first  
If I ever lose my faith in you  
There'd be nothing left for me to do _   


Carol was the first one to jump up and shout.

"Bravo! Let's do another one! How about 'High Hopes?'" Jean noticed that Scott was squirming and turning as red as glasses. Jean just gave him a wide smile.

"That was beautiful." Scott looked down at the ground, blushing even harder, and muttered, "Whatever."

Right then, Carol started dancing around. "I know. We can sing 'Leaving on a Jet Plane,' or 'How Many Roads.'"

Scott looked up from the ground and pegged everyone around the fire with one of his 'looks.'

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully." He glanced over his shoulder at Carol, who was still dancing around and shouting out song suggestions, before looking at everyone sitting around the fire again.

"Whoever is supplying her with the happy drugs, either cut her off now, or share them with the rest of us." Jean started laughing when she noticed that even Bruno was nodding in agreement. Yet it was Bruno who first broke his and Scott's unspoken truce. Later, as Bobby was walking up to the fire with a scalding-hot cup of cocoa, Bruno stuck out his foot and tripped him. Hot chocolate went splashing all over Bobby's hands and Scott's back. Bobby let out an involuntary yelp. Warren could see from across the fire that Bobby's hand was already starting to blister. Scott got up and started heading toward Bruno. From the expression on Scott's face, someone was going to die, and Hank, reading Scott's face, jumped between the two. Scott glared at Hank.

"Get out of my way," he ordered mildly. Hank shook his head.

"Only if you promise not to kill him."

Scott continued to glare at Hank and, once again, said in a deceptively mild tone, "Get out of my way. Go take care of Bobby." Hank shot Warren a pleading glance. Warren quickly rose from his place at the fire, scooped Scott up, and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Put me down," Scott very mildly said into Warren's back.

"I don't think that would be a very good idea, Slim," Warren replied, his tone just as mild.

"Put me down, or I'm going to make Shake 'n' Bake out of you. Then I'll kill the slime-for-brains, bully-wannabe reject anyway," Scott muttered into Warren's back. Warren watched as Hank, Jean, and Carol fussed over Bobby.

"If I put you down, are you going to kill him?" Scott was very quiet for a moment.

"I'm weighing my odds of getting away with it."

"Well, at least you're thinking about it," Warren mused. "You have to promise that if I put you down, you won't kill Bruno. Then you need to promise me that you'll let us take a look at your back."

"Back?" Scott asked, puzzled. Warren nodded.

"Bobby's hot chocolate spilled all over his hand and your back."

"I really didn't notice. Another task had my attention," Scott replied.

"I could tell."

"Is Scott all right?" Jean asked as she came over to them. "Bobby's got some nasty blisters. How's Scott's back?" Warren shrugged.

"That's a very interesting question." Jean blinked at him.

"You haven't checked?" Warren sighed.

"Scott's back wasn't my first priority. Preventing Scott from killing Bruno, thus forcing me to come up with ten thousand dollars in bail money, was." He shrugged at Jean. "Getting a hold of that much cash on the weekends can be a problem, even for me."

"Ten thousand?" Scott snorted indignantly. "What kind of underachiever do you think I am? If I was going to kill him, I'm going to make it worth my while. Try a couple of million in bail bonds. I don't do anything half measure." Warren shook his head in amusement.

"Can I put you down now?"

"Yes," Scott replied calmly.

"Promise me you won't kill him."

Warren felt Scott stiffen up for a moment before replying, "I promise. I won't kill him tonight." Warren rolled his eyes and dumped Scott on the ground.

"Close enough." Hank jogged over.

"Warren, I need you to bring Bobby down to the lake. Jean and I are going to look at Scott's back." Scott opened his mouth to protest and Hank glared down at him.

"Not one word, or I'm putting you in a head lock."

* * *

Scott was laying face down on his sleeping bag.

"I'm going down to the lake to get some cold compresses for his back," Hank said. "I need you to gently take some soap and water and clean those burns out." Scott heard the tent flap rustle as Hank left.

"Well Slim," he heard Jean say. "This is going to hurt."

"Fine," Scott spat out. "Just do it." He knew what the next question out of her mouth was going to be. He always bristled at having to answer it. He knew what would catch her attention first — the burn scars. The scars he got when a burning parachute landed on him following the plane accident that killed his parents. They were a shade lighter than the rest of his back and they always caught people's attention first. Next would be the scars acquired when Jack had knocked him around so hard one night, that he'd needed stitches. Scott flinched when he felt the cloth that Jean was using to clean his burns touch his back.

He flinched again when Jean said, "Let's play twenty questions. It will help keep your mind off of what I'm doing."

"I'll give you ten. In exchange, I promise not to lie overly much when I answer them." Jean considered that response for a moment.

"Deal. What's your favorite color?" That one threw him.

"I really don't have one anymore. All I see are shades of red. I guess before my 'gift' came out, blue." Jean's smirking face suddenly appeared in front of him.

"I guess that could explain some of your outfits at school?" Scott sneered back at her.

"What explains the outfits is that I'm tall and skinny and can't find anything on the racks that fits. That's two," he finished sweetly. Jean scowled down at him.

"That wasn't one of my questions, and you know it."

"You wasted one; not my fault. Next?" Scott tried to keep from yelping aloud, as he felt Jean slap the cloth on his back.

"Fine," Jean sneered. "What's your favorite food?"

"I love omelets. That's three." Jean's hands were velvet-covered, liquid fire on his back. Suddenly realizing that Jean was saying something to him, Scott threw his mental walls up fast. He didn't want Jean seeing his thoughts diving straight for the gutter.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I asked you what your three favorite books are," Jean repeated. Scott had to think about that one for a minute.

"I would have to say the _Autobiography of Malcolm X_. People piss me off when they run around chanting 'by any means necessary' when they have never taken time to read the damned book. Next would be _Hamlet_ and then _The Art of War_. That's four and five. I'm counting that one as two." He almost leapt off the sleeping bag when he felt the cloth slap his back again.

"Fine," Jean acknowledged. "But I'm asking you what your three favorite movies are and it only counts as one."

" _Mr. Smith Goes to Washington_ , _The Rear Window_ , and _Twelve Angry Men_. That's six."

"Why do you have a parole officer?" Scott sighed.

"I'll answer this one, but I'm counting it as two." Jean's face suddenly appeared in his line of vision.

"Deal." Scott took a deep breath.

"I helped someone break in to somewhere. Things didn't go down as planned when the Professor showed up. After the whole mess was over, I turned myself in, did the right thing, and pleaded guilty to all charges. The judge agreed to drop the charges and wipe my record clean, if and only if I agreed to go Xavier's school, kept my grades up, stayed out of trouble, and agreed to do so many hours of community service. The judge in her infinite wisdom decided I still needed to be punished though, so she assigned me to Carol. Carol monitors my progress and keeps tabs on my community service hours. That's why I have a parole officer." Jean studied him for a moment.

"Why do I think there's more to that story than what you just told me?" Scott shrugged.

"You just threw that one away, because I'm not answering it. You have one question left."

"Is it getting hot in this tent?" Now that she mentioned it, the tent did seem to be getting very hot and stuffy. The more her hands ran over his back, the hotter the tent was becoming. Everywhere Jean's hands went, a trail of sparks seemed to boil his blood.

"Yes," Scott croaked out. "That's ten."

"Oh, by the way," Jean said, breaking the silence in a nervous perky tone. "I'm doing a few massage techniques around the burn area. It should help the blood flow and get the burns to heal faster."

It was getting the blood flowing all right — just nowhere near the area of his back. She was going to kill him. His blood was catching fire and pumping fast through his veins. By the time Hank showed up, Scott didn't need the cold compresses on his back; it wasn't the part of him that was aching.

* * *

She had him pinned against the wall of the shower stall. He looked down in to her glittering, passion-filled eyes. The shower spray and her hands were all over him. Suddenly, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He ran his hands through her wild red hair, then leaned forward to kiss her. 

Scott bolted awake from his dream. He remained very silent to see what had snapped him awake. It was a rustling in his tent. Something or someone was in here with him. Part of him hoped it was Bruno. He was really in the mood to kill something, and screw his promise to Warren.

"You'd better be a fur-covered, bug-eyed, rabid little creature or you're in big trouble," Scott growled quietly. "And if you are a rabid little creature, I'm warning you now, that in the foul mood I'm in tonight, I'll bite back. I'll make those rabies shots worth my while."

"I knew you'd like to bite. It's always the quiet ones," Scott heard Sue's voice whisper out of the dark.

He took a deep breath as he sat up in his sleeping bag. "I'm going to only ask you this once, Sue. What the hell are you doing in my tent?"

Sue turned on a flashlight. "Since you had to leave the fire early, I thought you might like some company."

He just glared at her. "I don't. Get out!" She just blinked at him. "I just love a man who plays hard to get." He set his jaw.

"I don't play. I am hard to get. Now get out!" Sue blinked her eyes at him harder.

"I know you like me," she said.

"Whatever gave you that ridiculous notion? Half the time, I'm fighting the urge to slap you." Sue smirked at him.

"You're just shy." Scott counted to ten, trying to keep his temper under control.

"I am not shy! I don't like you. I didn't like you from the moment I first met you. There's nothing about you that I would ever like. You and I wouldn't get together even if we were the last man and woman on Earth. I would let the species die out first! _Now get out!_ " He was totally unprepared for what happened next; Sue broke down in tears.

"What am I doing wrong?" she sobbed. "Carol says I need to find a nice guy, and not the usual creeps I manage to find. The way Carol described you, you're one of the best. What's wrong with me?" Sue suddenly reminded him of a girl he'd known in the orphanage. Her father had hit her a lot. She never had a very high opinion of herself because of it. She was always out to prove to a guy that she was worth something. The problem was, the guys she'd hooked up with had ended up being bad news. Scott suddenly had a pretty good idea how Sue had ended up in trouble. Sometimes he really hated having insights into screwed-up people. There were tears running down Sue's face as she turned to leave.

"Sue, wait!" Scott suddenly blurted out. He vaguely wondered why it was that he always had to play 'knight in shining armor.' He cursed his Sir-Lancelot streak for getting him into these messes. Next time that streak had the nerve to show itself, Scott swore he was going to track it down, stake it, burn it, and then scatter it to the four winds. Sue turned around to look at him, and Scott cursed under his breath. He could handle this. He could handle this delicately; as delicately as a bull in a china shop. He took a deep breath. "Sue, listen, I'm really sorry about what I said. I was out of line and mean. I'm a little surly tonight. I didn't really mean... most of it." Sue gave him a very hopeful look.

"Really?" He nodded.

"Yes, really. Sue you have to realize... you come on... a little strong." Sue's face fell a little.

"Oh." Scott nodded to her.

"Let me give you some advice. Stop trying so hard. Work on the 'I,' and the 'we' will follow." Sue was silent for a moment.

"That's not what my boyfriends thought." Scott sighed and shook his head sadly.

"And I bet one of those charming creeps got you in trouble with the law and that's why you're out here camping with Carol." She nodded.

"Yes," she muttered.

"Can I clue you in on something, Sue?" Scott asked gently, and she looked up. "I don't do one-night stands. The best guys in the world that I go to school with don't do one-night stands either. Respect yourself enough to realize you're worth waiting for, and if a guy tells you differently, tell him to go straight to hell." Sue blinked at him for a moment, then broke out in to a genuine smile.

"Carol is right. You are a great guy." Scott just snorted at that remark.

"No, I'm not. I just play one on TV. There is a reason I have a parole officer, you know." Sue smirked at him.

"But I bet the reason you're here is that you did the right thing." He glared at her.

"You'd lose that one." Sue's smirk just got wider.

"Sure, I would. You wouldn't be interested in just being friends would you?" He eyed her for a moment.

"Just friends? I won't be forced to drown you in the lake to keep your hands off of me? If you're planning on trying anything, get out. I'm not interested, and I have no patience for that crap tonight." She just shook her head.

"Just friends, okay? I promise to keep my hands to myself. I can tell you about my Grandfather who fought in World War II." Scott studied her for a moment.

"Deal. I have a deck of cards in my bag. We can play some cards and talk. I wasn't sleeping very well anyway." Sue smiled.

"Deal," she said, rolling her eyes. "Anything is better than going back and listening to Carol sing 'Shinny Happy People' again. All that perkiness is starting to turn my stomach." He nodded in agreement.

"I'm starting to think all her perkiness is actually natural. My theory is that our real parole officer was kidnapped and replaced by an alien clone, planted here to warp young people's minds in order to make an alien takeover easier. You know, like Barney the purple dinosaur." Sue nodded in agreement.

"It would explain her lack of cynicism and bitterness," she mused. "You might have something there. You don't think Carol's a new breed of juvenile officer do you? What if they're training all new juvie officers to be that optimistic and perky?" Scott shot Sue a look of horror. He pulled the cards out and started dealing them.

"I'd rather stick to my alien theory, thanks," he said.

* * *

Jean was just about to head to her tent for the night, when she decided to check in on Scott before going to bed. She was outside his tent when she heard two voices and her stomach suddenly bottomed out. One voice was Scott's, and the other belonged to Sue. Betrayal stabbing into her like a knife, Jean set her jaw, turned on her heel, and stalked off into the woods. She had thought Scott was different. She was going to be damned before he saw her cry.

"Hey Jean!" Jean looked around for the source of the voice and saw José sitting on a rock. He gave her a considering look.

"What's wrong?" Jean glared at him

"Nothing," she spat out.

"Something's bothering you." Jean turned to face him, put her hands on her hips, and spat out one word.

"Men." He gave her an amused look for a moment.

"I can't deny I'm one of them."

"Then you might want to stay away from me right now. I'm holding the whole side of the species accountable," Jean fired back hotly.

"Let me guess. It's that prickly bad-tempered friend of yours." Jean glared back at him.

"Maybe," she said. "Explain to me the inborn, male weakness for bimbos. I thought Scott was better than that. I thought he was the... oh, never mind. You're male, you wouldn't understand." José offered her a look full of sympathy.

"Let me guess, Prince-so-charming turned into a rat at midnight like the rest of us?" Jean smirked at him bitterly.

"Something like that. Though Scott would argue that he's more of a cockroach, hard to kill and extremely irritating. That's why he's always fighting the Professor about transcending and becoming a better person. He doesn't was to evolve past where he is now, just in case the karma thing is right." At that, José looked momentarily confused.

"He wants to come back as a cockroach? Your friend has some very strange ideas." She just shrugged, and tried not to break out in tears thinking about Scott.

"That's what I thought too, when he told me that. At the end of the world, Scott argues, all that will be left are cockroaches and Elvis. Scott wants to meet Elvis." José scooted over on his rock and gestured for Jean to come sit beside him. When Jean did, José put a bottle in her hands.

"Here, I think you need this more than I do." Jean took a sip — it tasted like lemonade. Not bad. José smiled at her. He really did have a nice smile; it reminded her of Scott's.

* * *

"Where's Bobby?" Warren jumped a foot straight up into the air, then turned around and glared at Scott as he walked out of the shadows.

"Damn it, will you please stop doing that? You're going to get yourself killed, sneaking up on me one day." Scott shrugged in response.

"You rely on your eyes too much, Warren. Someone is going to use that against you."

"So you keep telling me," Warren sneered. "Bobby is sulking around in the woods somewhere. Hank went to go look for him. I thought you went to bed."

"I did. Sue showed up." Warren raised an eyebrow.

"Were you forced to drown her in the lake?" Scott shook his head.

"No, but I think we came to an understanding. I didn't even have to hold her head under till she passed out once." Warren smirked at him.

"Oh, progress." His expression grew very serious. "Have you seen Jean? She headed off to bed a while ago but she's not in her tent. In fact, it looks like she hasn't even unwrapped her sleeping bag yet." Scott took that information in.

"I haven't seen her. We'll go find the others and look for her."

Warren suddenly stiffened up and muttered, "Son of a... I'm going to kill him." He stalked off in a hurry.

"Warren?" Scott shouted, running after him. He quickly followed Warren into a clearing.

"Damn it Warren! What the hell is going on?" He stopped dead in his tracks. Warren had José dangling off the ground, pinned to a tree by his throat. Warren looked like he was going to kill the teenager.

"I swear to you, man, I only gave her one," José was saying to Warren. That's when Scott noticed Jean sitting in the middle of the clearing. She was sitting on the ground laughing her head off, obviously dead drunk.

"Warren!" Scott barked. "Put him down!"

"Give me one good reason not to kill him," Warren replied, not taking his eyes off José — or loosening his grip either. Scott thought fast.

"You'll get blood all over your good shoes?" Warren considered that answer for a long time, and Scott figured he was going to have to blast Warren into the lake to make him let go, when Warren suddenly dropped José.

"Good point," he said, as he released his grip. José was backing up slowly from where he'd landed on the ground, rubbing his neck.

"What the hell are you?" José muttered.

"Your worst nightmares," Scott replied, walking up to him. "I'm going to tell you what you're going to do, José, and you're going to listen very carefully. If you don't, you're going to be dealing with me. You really don't want to do that. You are going to march right into camp and tell Carol what happened."

"What if I don't do it?" José demanded. Scott gave him a very chilling smile.

"You're going to make me very angry. There's a difference between Warren and me. Warren will rip your arms off and feel guilty about it later. I, on the other hand, will simply hold your head under the water until you stop struggling and I won't feel anything. It would be in your own best interest not to irritate me. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" José swallowed hard.

"You're some type of psycho. You know that?" He smiled coldly down at José again.

"Recovering," he replied. Jose bolted towards camp.

"Was it something I said?" Scott asked Warren innocently, as they watched Jose run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Scott walked over and scooped Jean up, threw her over his shoulder, and tried not to flinch when she hit his burned back. Jean just started laughing harder.

"You have such a cute ass. I'd never admit it, but I just love it when you play cave man." Scott felt the blush starting to creep into his face and proceeded to unceremoniously dump her on her feet right in front of him. Jean stumbled right into his chest and started laughing harder. She threw her arms around his neck and looked up in his face, her expression coy.

"Every time I think about looking into your eyes, I..." She suddenly turned a very green color.

"I need to throw up," she said, stumbling out of his arms and into the woods. Scott suddenly turned and glared at Warren, who was standing there watching the scene with an amused expression on his face.

"What the hell are you looking at? It's an appropriate response."

"All right, what are we going to do?" Warren asked gently. Scott sighed and wondered why theses decisions always fell on him.

"We can't take her back to camp until she sobers up. We have four humans with no shielding training. That makes Jean not only a danger to them, but them a danger to her. One of the reasons I played scare tactics with José. The faster he got the hell away from her, the safer he was."

"And I thought you didn't like him," Warren said dryly.

"That either. Our first priority is to contain a potentially dangerous situation."

"I think you're missing something very important here," Warren advised. "Underage drinking or covering up underage drinking is an expellable school offense. The Professor has a zero-tolerance policy towards it. So that leaves the question of how we want to play this? Unless José ran all the way back to camp and told Carol all about this mess and everyone knows already."

"He didn't." Scott said with conviction. "He'd stop about halfway there, sit down and try to figure out how to word the whole story. Possessing alcohol underage is a violation of his parole." Warren studied Scott and gave him a very serious look.

"If we get caught and expelled, it's not a big deal for me. I'll go to Harvard or Yale. You're looking at possible jail time." Scott shrugged.

"Three squares a day, and a light bulb so I can continue to write my hate-filled protest letters to the government about the state of our child welfare system. That's all I really need anyway. Our first priority is still containing this situation. I think it would be best for Jean if we kept it quiet, and let her confess it all to the Professor when we get home. Since covering this mess up is expellable, I'd understand if you didn't want to get involved."

"I think you're missing the point. I am involved. I just don't want Hank or Bobby dragged in to it," Warren said. Scott rubbed his head.

"Agreed. One of us has to stay with her until she sobers up."

"That should be you," Warren asserted. "Everyone thinks you're in bed sleeping; that, and you have the best natural shields of the two of us. If an accident happens, she's less likely to fry your brain than mine." Scott smirked at him.

"Thanks a lot." Warren shrugged unapologetically.

"I'll head back to camp, intercept José along the way, and help him word his story. He may be persuaded to leave Jean the hell out of it. I'll make a big production of going to bed and sneak back when I can." Scott considered the plan for a moment and sighed.

"Agreed. I'll stay here with Jean and you head back to camp." Jean came staggering out of the clearing, fell on her butt once and just started howling at the top of her lungs. Scott shook his head while watching her. It was nice to know she was a happy drunk. She staggered over to where he was standing.

"Are we alone?" she asked. Logic was a hopeful sign. Maybe she was starting to sober up. Scott nodded at her.

"Yes, we're alone. Warren went back to camp and I got volunteered for baby-sitting duty. Please do me the kind favor of not frying my brain with a drunken slipup." She started giggling at that remark and threw her arms around his neck.

"You're so funny."

"You're drunker than I first thought," Scott retorted. Jean smirked up at him.

"I know you dream about me, Scott. You can't deny it." Scott glared down at her.

"How would you know that?"

"The night you fell asleep in my arms," Jean whispered. "And your dreams project some nights. You really do have a very, very creative mind." Scott felt himself blush.

"Now that I've shown you that my mind is the consistency of a triple X, third-world dive, I'll keep that in mind, and try not to let it happen again in the future."

"Why," Jean purred in his ear. "The chocolate sauce and the cookie dough just intrigued me." She started kissing his neck.

"What you dreamed of doing on the back of a motorcycle just turned me on." He felt his face get even warmer.

"You're drunk. You have no idea what the hell you're doing."

"I'm not that drunk," she purred in his ear, then started kissing down his neck.

"Oh, yes, you are," Scott croaked. She bit him through his t-shirt.

"You really do have the mind of a bad boy, underneath that cold, icy exterior," she purred. "But I know you aren't made of the stone you like to show everyone else." Then she looked up at him and smirked. "At least not most of you anyway." His face had to be the shade of his glasses by now. The whole world seemed to be spinning, and suddenly his whole existence was centered on where Jean's hands were touching him.

"You're drunk," he croaked. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Run wild with me," she whispered in his ear. "You would never be able to do it with Sue. Let go and lose control." Suddenly, Scott was caught in Jean's eyes like a net. His mouth met hers, and Jean responded back. Their tongues and minds entwined, and Scott found himself running his hands though her wild red hair. Jean's hands were all over him. The next thing Scott knew, they were on the ground with Jean on top of him. She looked like some pagan goddess, looking down at him with passion-bruised lips and her hair all mussed. But Scott's burned back coming into contact with the ground snapped him out of his passion-filled daze and brought the world back into focus.

"We're not doing this."

"Why?" Jean asked huskily. Scott gently pushed her off of him.

"We are not doing this," he repeated. "One, you're drunk and not thinking clearly. You're the closest thing to a best friend I have and I refuse to ruin our friendship for a five-second hormone rush. I care for you too much to take advantage of you like that; it's a line I won't cross. Two, I am not prepared or equipped for this and I can almost guarantee that you're not either." Scott got up and started backing slowly away from her. He had a very vivid image in his head of a siren calling to Odysseus. He needed a mast right now, a really big, sturdy one. Gathering up his willpower, he continued to back away.

"I refuse to do something in the heat of the moment that could affect the rest of your life," he continued. "Three, if the guys ever found out, they would trounce me and I'd let them. We all agreed you're off limits. Four, what the guys left breathing the Professor would gladly finish off. So, we are not doing this." Suddenly, as he was slowly backing away from her, he felt his ankle turn and lost his balance, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in a stream. He checked his glasses to make sure they were still in place and opened his eyes. Jean was giggling and trying to get up.

"You're staying right there. Sit!" Scott ordered. Jean started giggling harder and sat back down.

"I'm running really low on self control tonight. So I'm going to stay right here and you are going to sit right there and not move."

For some reason, Jean thought that line was absolutely hysterical and choked out, "You're just adorable when you're flustered and don't know what to do." His ankle was throbbing, and he was sitting in the middle of a very cold stream. And then he noticed the patch of poison sumac that Jean was sitting next to. He groaned inwardly. It just had to be Sumac didn't it? Sumac was the one plant in the entire plant kingdom that gave his mutant skin a horrible itchy, blotchy rash. It was a lot harder to find than poison ivy or poison oak, so of course, they had to find a patch of it. By the way his arms were itching, he had to have landed in it, too. The old adage, "All is fair in love and war," came to mind. Screw the love part. Give him a long, bloody war any day. He honestly thought he had better odds of surviving a war. Warren arrived a while later to find Scott sitting in a stream, resembling a drowned rat and looking like he was ready to the kill the next person who dared to get near him. Jean was sitting on the bank, giggling her head off. 

"Did I miss something?" he asked smoothly.

"No," Scott replied in a tone that warned 'don't ask.' "You remember you implied that men start wars because of women?" Warren raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Well, you're wrong Warren. Men start wars because it's the only way we can get the hell away from women!" For some odd reason, from her place on the bank, Jean found that remark absolutely, hysterically funny.

* * *

"Would you mind telling me how you sprained it?" Hank McCoy asked, as he wrapped Scott's ankle. Scott was sitting close to the fire, wearing one of Warren's spare sweatshirts, trying to get warm. He pulled the blanket wrapped around him a little tighter.

"I fell," Scott snarled. Hank rolled his eyes.

"I could deduce that one all by myself," he stated dryly. "And how did you land in the poison sumac?" Scott glared at Hank and tried to get a little closer to the fire.

"I fell." Hank just blinked at him.

"Land in the stream?"

"I fell." Hank threw his hands up in the air, exasperated.

"That's one of the reasons I love treating you Scott: you're always so informative."

"Did you find Bobby?" Hank nodded.

"I spent three hours looking for him. By the time I gave up and came back to camp, I found him sleeping in his tent. He did something; I know he did. I just haven't discovered what, yet."

"Hey," Warren said as he walked over. "Jean's in bed."

"I still think you should have allowed me to examine her. She didn't look good when you walked her into camp." Warren shrugged.

"It's one of those twenty-four hour bugs. Let her sleep it off and she'll be fine." Hank scowled.

"I still think I should have examined her." Warren shrugged again. Hank tipped his head in Scott's direction.

"How far did he walk on that ankle?"

"About a quarter of a mile. I couldn't stop him," Warren replied. Hank threw his hands up again and turned to Scott.

"I don't want you walking on that ankle." Scott responded by pulling his hand out from under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and flipping Hank the bird.

"Oh, look," Hank responded dryly. "He's being his usual good-tempered self. The order still stands, Scott — no weight on that ankle until the Professor can examine it."

"Can I walk to my tent?" Scott asked with a sneer.

"With Warren's and my help. No weight on that ankle," Hank replied.

"Fine. Help me up." Hank and Warren each grabbed a hand, and Scott threw an arm over each of their shoulders. It was half way to his tent that the three of them found Bruno. He was dangling upside down from a tree in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt. He had been tied and gagged.

"Oh my stars and garters," Hank muttered. "I never learned how to do that at Boy Scout camp." Warren studied Bruno and shook his head.

"Hey, Bobby's learned something new. You would think with his burned hand, that would have hurt." After hobbling up to inspect Bruno, Scott turned to glare back and forth at the two of them.

"Okay, which of you two idiots taught Bobby how to tie a decent knot?"

"He did!" Warren and Hank announced in unison, each pointing at the other.

* * *

The next morning Jean's hair hurt. She didn't think that was possible. That and the bright, sunny, beautiful morning only made her headache worse. Staggering out of her tent, she found everyone gone except Carol, who was putting some stuff away from breakfast.

"Good morning," Carol said in a perky tone, giving her a big smile. Scott was right about the woman — she had to be on happy drugs; no one was that perky first thing in the morning. Carol inspected her carefully and started chuckling.

"I bet you feel lousy this morning. I did stick around to give you hell, but looking at you now, I figure being stuck in a canoe for a good part of the day while hung over will be punishment enough." Carol handed her a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of water, and two Tylenol.

"Here, Scott left these for you." Jean gave Carol a sheepish look.

"You know?" Carol smirked at her.

"I do this for a living. You think I haven't seen a hung-over teenager before?" Jean gave Carol another sheepish look.

"I guess you would have." Carol nodded to her.

"Yup. Though you look worse than most of them."

"Thanks," Jean retorted.

"It's the truth, Carol said, shrugging. "Don't worry about José. He and I had a long talk last night, and it's going to continue on our canoe trip today. He's in big trouble, and he knows it."

"I'm planning on throwing myself on the Professor's mercy when I get home." Jean sighed. "I can see the fifty-page research paper on the dangers of drinking that I'll be writing already."

"I think going to Charles and telling him what happened would be a excellent idea," Carol responded. "If you do, I won't even call Scott on the red carpet for covering for you."

"Scott covered for me?" Carol gave her a bemused expression.

"You expected him not to? Most of the time, you're all I hear about from him. It's Jean this and Jean that."

"I don't remember too much of last night. Scott does not like drinking. I honestly expected him to be the first one to drag me up in front of the Professor." Jean rubbed her aching head. "I remember once when we were invited to a dinner party at the house of one of the Professor's friends. The wine was flowing, and Scott just kept inching away from the table. By the time anyone noticed what he was doing, he was out of the room. We didn't see him for the rest of the evening." Carol shook her head.

"Hearing that story doesn't surprise me at all," the probation officer said. "With Scott, it's all about control. When people start drinking, they start to lose control. If someone loses control, you can't predict how he or she will react, so you take back control by removing yourself from the situation. Scott doesn't like to lose control, and he doesn't think too highly of people who don't display it, either." Jean absorbed that information for a moment.

"I'll keep that in mind." Carol gave her a very serious look.

"I would. It will make dealing with him in the future much easier. Anyway..." Carol suddenly got that perky look back on her face. "Scott and Warren were the ones who brought you back to camp last night — gave me some lame line about how you were sick. Good luck finding out what really happened. Neither one of them are talking." Jean flinched at that information.

"I'm sure I'll be teased about it later," she grumbled.

"Where are the others?" Jean asked with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which was none at all. Carol grinned at her.

"They're down at the lake, waiting for us. You missed the sing-off this morning." Jean slid a pair of sunglasses onto her face.

"Sing-off?" Carol nodded.

"Scott, Bobby and Sue," she said. "Sue was trying to snap Scott out of his bad mood. She started with this really raunchy Marine marching tune her grandfather taught her. Bobby got into it and retaliated with a couple of Army tunes his father taught him. Then, to everyone's surprise, Scott broke out the old Air Force classic about a paratrooper whose parachute didn't open. I think Scott won. That song is both raunchy and gross. Gives you wonderful insight in to the minds of men who go into firefights sitting on jet fuel. Did you know that song has sixty-five different verses; all of them dealing with what happened when the trouper hit the ground and what happened to his body parts." A wide grin covered Carol's face.

"I was very impressed. Scott sang five verses with a stone-straight face. I think he was having a good time making Warren blush, even if he wouldn't admit it." Jean grinned back at her.

"I would have loved to see Warren blush. I didn't think he could." Carol grabbed her pack up.

"So, are you ready to go canoeing?"

"No," Jean replied dryly.

"Tough. Think of it as punishment for your sins. I'm partnering you and Scott together today. In the mood he's in, good luck. You're going to need it."

* * *

"I'm telling you exactly how my grandfather told me how they did it," Sue explained, as she pointed to some chucks of driftwood. Scott, Bobby, and Sue were sitting in a circle around the driftwood, talking and arguing. Jean saw that Scott was wearing his favorite red sweatshirt and had his ankle up on a rock. They were arguing tactics. Why wasn't she surprised?

"Then he forgot something," Scott argued. "Pulling the maneuver off would have been impossible. We're missing something."

"I think the maneuver is possible," Bobby grumbled. "I remember lying in my bed, listening to my dad and some of his old army buddies talk one night. They pulled a similar maneuver in the A Shau."

"Okay," Scott said thoughtfully. "I know the terrain for the A Shau or The Valley of Death. If the terrain were similar on that island, then those mountains would be a lot steeper. I'm starting to see how they might have pulled it off. You would either have to be completely crazy or desperate even to try it. Maybe both."

"So what's everyone doing?" Carol asked, heading over to the three of them.

"Studying our past mistakes, and projecting them onto our futures," Scott replied sardonically.

"Nice to see you're your usual, good-tempered, optimistic self this morning, Scott," Carol fired back.

"Hey Jean." Bobby gave her a wild smile. "You feeling better? Warren said you were sick last night and we should let you sleep in." Sue glared at her. Jean noticed Sue wasn't wearing half the make-up she had been yesterday. She was looking quite pretty in that "girl next door" kind of way, and Jean glared back. Scott threw his sweatshirt hood over his head, which was Scott-speak for "leave me alone." Jean glared at him too, and he glared back.

"I'm fine, Bobby," she answered, still glaring at Scott. "Thanks for asking." Scott just grunted in greeting.

"So," Carol bellowed. "Is everyone ready to go canoeing?"

The only response she got was from Bobby, who shouted, "Yup!" Carol gave Bobby a wide smile.

"Okay, Bobby, Bruno, and Warren, you're together."

"Please, No. He's a monster," Bruno barely choked out. Bobby gave Bruno a wide innocent smile.

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun. I can show you a couple other knots. Like I did last night." Bruno started backing away from Bobby slowly.

"Please, anyone but him! He's an agent of Satan!" Scott rolled his eyes.

"Incarnate of Evil please. I'd like to think I have the major religions covered." Scott shook his head thoughtfully. "I've really got to put him back in the field. As a minion, it's a waste keeping him for ceremonial use only."

"Okay," Carol suddenly broke in. "Hank, would it be okay for Bobby to ride with you and Sue? He can't hold a paddle because of his hand." Hank smirked at Bobby.

"As usual, Drake's dead weight. Yes, he can ride with us."

"Okay, that leaves José and me." At that announcement, Jean swore José looked a little pale.

"In the other boat, that leaves you and Jean," Carol said, glancing at Scott. And Scott looked as if he'd swallowed a lemon.

"I don't think that would be a good idea." All that comment got him was a sweet smile from Carol.

"Tough. You and Jean are together." She suddenly turned to Jean. "Try not to kill him."

* * *

"You know, this is almost the perfect description of my life," Scott mused as he looked down at where their canoe was stuck on a group of rocks. "All we need is a hole in the bottom of the boat and it sinking fast."

"Well," Jean growled back at him. "If you had let me steer, we wouldn't be on the rocks right now."

"The precise reason we're on the rocks right now is because I let you steer," Scott fired back.

"Oh, yeah? Every time I tried, you took control, so we ended up going in circles. Now we're out here, drifting aimlessly."

"You're just hung over and looking for a fight."

"I wouldn't be angry if you weren't acting like such a jerk!"

"Fine!" Scott fumed. "I know better than to talk to you when you're in one of these moods." He pulled a book out of his pocket and stuck his nose in it.

"You aren't going to ignore me, Scott Summers!" Jean swung her paddle back, sending Scott's book flying into the lake.

"What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded, but Jean just glared at him.

"Okay, if you want a fight. I'll give you a fight!" he said.

* * *

"I'm glad I'm not over there with those two," Bobby announced, as he watched Scott and Jean from a distance. Bobby was sitting in the middle of the canoe because he couldn't hold a paddle with his burned hand.

"That fight looks like it could get ugly."

"Apparently Carol was very wise to put the two of them in a boat together. I would hate to have one of them take that mood out on me," Hank said, shaking his head. Carol paddled over with José.

"Isn't it nice to see two hormonally charged young people working their problems out in a nonviolent fashion," she chirped cheerfully. Hank flinched as Jean swung the canoe paddle at Scott's head and he ducked it. "I think if we just leave the two of them alone, they'll work their problems out. Don't you?"

"Or kill each other," Hank muttered.

"Either-or. I'll see you at the island," Carol said as she paddled off, humming.

"Okay, Drake," Hank muttered, watching Carol leave. "I'm starting to see what you see in that woman. She's evil. She's more than evil, she's _perky_ evil." Bobby nodded.

"I know. Isn't she so hot?"

"She's perfect for you, Drake. If she weren't fifteen years your senior, I'd tell you to go for it."

"Hank, can I ask you a question?" Sue asked from where she was sitting up front in the canoe, watching Scott and Jean.

"Yes?"

"Are those two going to kill each other, or start ripping each other's clothes off?" Hank glanced over to where Scott and Jean's argument was heating up and sighed.

"I don't think the two of them have it figured out yet."

* * *

"Your problem is that you never think anything out," Scott growled at Jean. They were kneeling in the middle of the canoe, yelling at each other. Jean swung the canoe paddle at his head again. Scott dodged, rocking the boat.

"Well, you have to over think and micromanage everything to death!" Jean fired back.

"Well, if you'd thought things out, you wouldn't be hung over from drinking with your bad-boy Spanish stud muffin! Let me tell you something, Jean, bad is walking in and finding the monster under the bed, screwing mommy. You have no clue what 'bad' is!" Jean swung the canoe paddle at him again.

"What the hell was that bimbo doing in your tent last night!"

"That's none of your damned business!" Scott ducked the paddle again and the boat started rocking a little harder.

"Well, it's none of your damned business what José and I were doing out drinking in the woods last night."

"Fine."

"Fine!" Scott just set his jaw and glared at her.

"You are the most impossible woman. I don't even know why you're my friend. Half the time I want to throttle you!"

"Because no one else would put up with you!" Jean snarled. "That's why, you stubborn son of a bitch!" The next thing Jean knew, she was flung into the water and had to come up to the surface.

"We tipped the canoe! I hope realize this is all your fault," Jean shouted. When Scott didn't fire a retort back, Jean did a quick scan of the area. Scott wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Scott?" His life preserver was floating on top of the water. He must not have had the thing fastened because of his back. "Scott! You'd better answer me!" She dove under the water and caught sight of him. The light filtering through the water bounced off his glasses. Jean grabbed him and yanked him to the surface, and then threw him on their capsized canoe.

"You hit me. I can't believe you hit me with a rock," Scott muttered in shocked disbelief, as he grabbed the edge of the canoe. Dazed and coughing up water, he looked like a half drowned puppy — adorable.

"First I get burned, end up in poison sumac, and sprain my ankle. Then you hit me in the head with a rock and try to drown me. You're trying to _kill_ me. I want to go home."

"I didn't hit you with a rock and try to drown you. The canoe tipped, and you had to show that rock who was boss by hitting it with your head. Probably cracked the poor thing with your thick skull. I want to go home, too. I'm hung over and my hair hurts."

"You know," Scott, grumbled. "The two of us are really pathetic sometimes." Jean grinned back at him.

"Definitely. No one else would put up with us. That's why we ended up best friends. You know what our friendship is like?"

"The Titanic hitting the iceberg?"

"Sometimes."

"A bad case of sea sickness?" She shook her head.

"Nope. Not that."

"Maple, toffee-flavored coffee?"

"Yuck! No."

"A no-plot, B-rated action flick?"

"Double yuck! No."

"A tricycle designed by Dr Seuss?"

"That's it!" Jean kissed him on the cheek and started laughing. "It works. It putters right along but no one can quite figure out how." They clambered up to sit on top of their capsized canoe.

"Sue and I just played cards in my tent last night. That's it," Scott said.

"Oh," she replied.

"I don't do one-night stands and I don't have time for a relationship. I almost have too much on my plate with school, community-service hours, and saving the world from evil mutants. Figuring out women takes too much time and energy. That, and most people just manage to irritate me." Jean sighed.

"I'm sorry. I should never have jumped to conclusions about you and Sue. It's just one of these days, all of you guys are going to get girlfriends and I'm going to be the odd woman out. You're the only really close friends I have right now, and I'm scared of losing that." Scott snorted.

"That's not going to happen."

"You say that now. But what happens when a girlfriend enters the picture?"

"She'll have to deal. I am who I am. My friends are my friends. If she has a problem with my friends, that's her problem not mine." Jean absorbed that answer. They were quiet for a long time when Scott suddenly asked, "Is this weekend one of those moments that if anyone ever brings it up, we'll laugh nervously and change the subject fast?"

"Yup," Jean replied dryly. "I think Carol is deliberately leading them away from us."

"Yup," Scott agreed.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Maybe," Scott replied.

"What happened last night?" Scott was silent for a long time.

"If you allow me to laugh nervously and change the topic, I'll give you five more questions."

"You're dodging my question Summers."

"Yup. Take it or leave it." Jean considered that response for a moment.

"Deal. Name one song that best describes your life." Scott smirked at her.

"That one's easy: 'Welcome to the Jungle,' by Guns and Roses. You can make them harder than that."

"Why don't you ever ask anything about me?"

"I know that you love grape Blow Pops, and your favorite flavor of ice cream is black cherry swirl. If we don't have any cherry ice cream, strawberry will do in a pinch. I bet you were the type of kid who always had a cherry Kool-Aid mustache growing up. You're not a big chocolate fan, but you can eat a whole box of chocolate-covered cherries by yourself. You prefer Cool Ranch Doritos's to regular chips. You love sappy love songs. When you go to the bookstore, you pick up both Cosmo and a motorcycle hot-rod magazine. Your favorite book is _The Lady of Avalon_ by Marion Zimmer Bradley. You really don't like math, but you're better at it than you think you are. You love to draw, and you do a little clothing designing when you're daydreaming in class." Scott's grin got wider.

"Should I go on?" Jean looked at him in shock. It was a while before she could voice her next question.

"Name three historic figures you would like to meet," she said.

"Sun-Tzu, Alexander the Great, and Abraham Lincoln." Jean smirked at him for a minute.

"This one's a tough one and it only counts as one." Scott eyed her for a moment.

"Fine. A deal's a deal."

"Tell me one thing about yourself that even the professor doesn't know about you." Scott was silent for a while.

"Gathering blackmail material? I do like how your mind works Ms. Grey. What I tell you stays between us."

"Well?" Jean prompted.

"I'm thinking," Scott said seriously. "I'm looking for something worthy of everything you said to me last night." Then, after a long silence, Scott answered.

"I have a tattoo." Jean almost fell off the canoe. That information didn't match the uptight, tie-wearing Scott she knew around school at all.

"You have a tattoo?" Scott nodded. "What is it?"

"A salamander." Jean blinked at him.

"Why a salamander?" Scott shrugged.

"At the time I got it, it was a bitter, self-directed joke. The salamander, according to legend, can't get burned. The gecko, in ancient times, was believed to be invulnerable to fire. A Chinese story I heard once said that when the flames consumed the Phoenix and everything else around it, the gecko survived. It was the only thing around the Phoenix that did. I admire something that can walk through the flames of life and survive."

"Where is it?" Scott got an impish look on his face.

"I'm not answering that question. That's question number six. Besides Miss Grey, I need a few secrets or you'd get bored with me." Jean eyed him coldly for a moment.

"You know, between changing in the locker room and the bad guys pretty much blowing our uniforms off, there's possibly about six inches of you that I haven't seen."

"I didn't know you looked," Scott answered smoothly. Jean felt her cheeks get warm.

"I never... I didn't mean... I just catch a glimpse... You're enjoying this way too much, Summers," she fired back, embarrassed.

"Maybe just a little," Scott replied. "It's not like you said I have a cute butt." At that, Jean felt herself get a little redder. Damn her fair complexion. Great, just what she needed; another reason to get a glimpse of his butt.

"It's not like the thought of a hidden tattoo might turn you on," he continued. "Or that bad boys push your buttons right?" Now, Jean could feel her face flame. Looking at her, Scott got a devilish, bad-boy smirk on his face. Jean thought that smirk was so hot.

"Looking at you, I'd say we are now completely even for last night," Jean groaned to herself. It was going to be a very long weekend.


	10. Trellises, Romeo and Juliet, and Other Romantic Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's Valentine's Day date dumps her in favor of a bimbo, and Warren and Hank both quarrel for the right to fill in, until Xavier orders Scott to take her, though Scott can't stand _Romeo and Juliet._ (What? The Professor Matchmaker?)

"Wait till I get my hands on you, Bobby Drake!" Scott Summers warned coldly as he leaped for his roommate. "I can't believe you sold me out for a box of Twinkies."

"I didn't sell you out," Bobby objected as he leapt away. "Besides, it was for a _case_ of Twinkies not just a box." Scott's response was to leap for Bobby again.

"Who uncrated you when Warren and Hank tried to ship you one-way to Alaska? Who cut you down from the basketball rim when you were hung up there? Then you sell me out for a case of Twinkies!" Bobby just gave Scott a guilty expression.

"Well it _was_ a whole case. I'd never sell you out for just a box." And with that remark Bobby, opened a bedroom window, climbed out onto a ledge and started running. Scott stuck his head out the window.

"Don't even think that running away is going to save you. I happen to know where you live." Bobby's response was to start climbing the trellis on the side of the house, up towards the roof. "You get to the roof and I'm throwing you off it. The brain damage will only be an improvement." Bobby started climbing the trellis faster, and Scott climbed out onto the ledge himself.

"Stop running, you coward, and take your deserved beating like an X-man." He headed up the trellis after Bobby.

* * *

"Jean — it's for you," Warren Worthington shouted.

"Who is it?" Jean shouted from across the house.

"Your date for Valentines Day. What's his name? Oh, yeah, Mike." Warren rolled his eyes. Jean came running into the kitchen to get the phone.

"Mike's probably calling to confirm times for tomorrow's performance, we're going to go see _Romeo and Juliet_." Jean took the phone from Warren. Warren went back to doing his homework, pretending not to be listening in to Jean and Mike's conversation.

"Hey, Mike. It's great to hear from you. You're calling to cancel. I see. Shelly called and asked you to the dance instead. Yeah, I understand. Have a great time." Jean slammed the phone down. "Men!" Warren looked up from his homework.

"Something wrong?" Jean nodded angrily at him.

"I just got stood up. Apparently Shelly asked Mike out, and he jumped at the chance. What do men see in that woman?" Warren smirked at her.

"Shelly puts out."

Jean glared, saying again, "Men!" with great disgust. Right at that moment, Hank McCoy walked in to the kitchen.

"I hope that you are not drawing conclusions about the whole male side of the species by whatever Warren is saying to you."

"Jean wanted to know why Mike would cancel a date with her so he could go out with Shelly." Hank blinked at Warren like the answer was obvious.

"Shelly puts out." Warren looked at Jean.

"See? I told you so." Jean glared at both of them.

"Men!" she said for a third time. "So tell me something. I need a quick trip into the male mind right now. Is there ever a time that men get tired of dating shallow, dizzy, big-busted bimbos?" Warren and Hank just exchanged looks.

"I don't know. Is there?" Warren asked Hank.

"Maybe when we mature at about forty and start taking up golf? Dating intelligent woman would require conversation skills, right?" They both turned back to Jean and announced at the same time.

"We don't think so." Jean threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Sometimes I think I'm at a disadvantage living with four teenage boys. There are just somethings a woman shouldn't know about the male mind.

"If you examine the evidence," Hank butted in gleefully. "Women are looking for meaningful long lasting relationships. Men, on the other hand, are looking for -"

"- shallow, dizzy, big-busted bimbos," Warren finished for Hank with a smirk. Jean glared at them.

"Great, that leaves me dumped for a bimbo the day before Valentine's, with two tickets to a performance that I have no idea what I'm going to do with."

"Well if you don't have any back-up plans," Hank announced, "I would love to go see one of the Great Bard's plays." Warren glared at Hank, and then shot Jean his most charming smile.

"Really, Jeannie, I'd love to take you. I'll even throw in dinner."

Hank glared right back at Warren.

* * *

"Don't you think trouncing me for this is going a little overboard?" Bobby asked from the far corner of the roof. Scott glared from where he'd just climbed off the trellis and was trying to keep his footing on a very slippery, icy roof.

"No. Running is just making it worse on you, you little weasel." Bobby gulped.

"Since I know you're not the forgiving sort, I'm going to try the running thing anyway." Bobby bolted towards the door to the roof. Scott bolted at the same time, but went sliding. Bobby Drake had, it seemed, a secondary mutant ability to run across any icy surface and not slip and fall on his butt.

"You lock me up here so I have to climb down, and you're going to Alaska. The hard way!" Scott bellowed as Bobby made it to the door, closed, and locked it behind him.

"I'm just going to let you stay up here until you calm down enough not to kill me," Bobby called from behind the locked door. "Or at least until I find the professor to protect me."

"Bobby!" Scott shouted as he pounded on the door. "Unlock this right now, or so help me, you're dead! Did it occur to you I could just blast the door in?"

"You won't!" Bobby shouted back. "You don't have your visor. That means you can't control how powerful your blast will be. You could just as easily rip the roof off as blast down the door. You won't risk hurting the others by mistake."

"Bobby! Open the door!" Scott shouted as he pounded on it again. But Bobby appeared to have left. "I am so stupid!" Scott grumbled to himself. "I fell for that one like an amateur."

* * *

"No, I insist that Jean should take me to the play," Hank growled at Warren. "You have no appreciation for Shakespeare."

"Why would she want to take you? You're a boring date," Warren shot back.

"What are you two fighting about now?" Bobby asked breathlessly as he ran in to the living room. "I'm not going to have to fish Warren's stuff out of the pool again, am I?"

"Nothing!" Both Hank and Warren shouted back without breaking their glaring match. Jean had covered her face with her hands and sighed.

"They're fighting about who's going to take me to see _Romeo and Juliet_."

"Yuck! Culture!" Bobby made a face. "If you were going to go see _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ , that would be a different story. Besides, I thought you were taking Mike?" Jean sighed at Bobby.

"I was. Mike cancelled because Shelly asked him out instead." Bobby gave her a pitying look.

"Too bad. The only reason Mike's going out with Shelly is because she puts out on a first date."

"So I've been told," Jean announced dryly.

"Have you seen the Professor?" Bobby asked, ignoring Hank and Warren who were still arguing. "I really need him to prevent a murder — namely mine."

"He's in his study. Who's mad at you now?"

"My roommate. I want to put the professor between me and Slim as quickly as possible." Jean blinked at Bobby.

"Slim's mad at you? I thought the man didn't have a temper."

"It takes a lot to get him there," Bobby admitted sheepishly, "but I managed it. My best move right now is go straight to the professor, confess to what I did, and let Professor Xavier cool Scott down. Sometimes I love being the youngest. Professor Xavier has too much of a sense of fair play to let the older ones beat me. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

* * *

"When I get my hands on you Bobby." Scott growled under his breath as he tried to make it back across the roof towards the trellis.  
He was just about there when he his feet slipped out from beneath him and he went tumbling down the other side of the roof.

* * *

"So, Jean, who do you want to take you to that play?" Warren asked. Jean smiled at both Hank and Warren.

"Maybe I won't go. I really didn't want to see _Romeo and Juliet_ that badly. It was just for extra credit, anyway. Honestly, I think I might be coming down with something."

"No, we insist Ms. Grey. Who do you want to take you?" Hank said, but Warren objected and they fell to arguing again. Jean smiled sweetly at her two teammates and quickly scanned the room for the nearest door. She wasn't even touching that one; she was getting the hell out of here. They were so busy with each other, they didn't even notice when she snuck out the door.

* * *

When the world stopped sliding, Scott found himself dangling by one hand from a gutter. He'd tumbled down the steep incline of the roof but had managed to catch himself on the gutter on his way down. He'd also managed to slice that wrist open on either a sharp patch of ice, or the gutter itself. Blood oozed down his arm.

"Wonderful. Just wonderful," he announced aloud. "You'd better be with the professor, confessing, Bobby, because that's the only thing that'll save you." A light in Jean's room suddenly came on, and Scott started inching over to over to Jean's balcony. The irony didn't escape him.

  
_"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?  
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.  
Arise fair Sun and kill the envious moon,  
Who is already sick and pale with grief."_  


Scott started chuckling humorlessly as he inched his way towards the balcony.

"I must have hit a vein and be losing a lot of blood, because I really hate that play. Why didn't anything like this ever happen to Romeo?"

* * *

"What is going on out here?" Professor Xavier demanded as he wheeled his way in to the living room. "I am trying to correct your research papers."

"Jean was just going to tell us who she wanted to take to the play tomorrow night," Warren stated calmly, though glaring at Hank.

"Did it occur to either of you that _Jean_ should be the one to decide?" Xavier asked irritably. But Jean was nowhere around.

"She can't decide," Hank interjected.

"It could be that you're both acting like fools, and that's the reason," Xavier told them bluntly. Then he caught sight of Bobby trying to sneak out of the room.

"Robert, don't even think about it. We are going to go get Scott off the roof, and then you are going to apologize. Or I will lock you both in the danger room — alone. Do I make myself clear? You are in big trouble, young man."

"Yes, sir." Bobby announced miserably. Hank and Warren just continued to glare at one another.

"That's it," Xavier announced, exasperated. "You two are both grounded. That means that neither of you can take Jean."

"That's not fair!" Warren and Hank both protested at the same time.

"I have spent the last six hours correcting research papers, and the last two days correcting tests. I'm not feeling fair right now," Xavier responded icily.

* * *

When Scott tried to swing down onto the balcony, he slipped.

"Oh, son of a -" At least he managed to snag Jean's trellis to slow his fall on his way down. He landed on his ass in a big fluffy snowdrift on Jean's balcony.

"Romeo makes that look so damned easy. One of the many reasons I hate that play," Scott muttered to himself as the trellis with the climbing rose bush came falling down on top of him.

* * *

Jean had just walked into her room when she heard a strange noise coming from her balcony. Hurrying to open the door, she found that her trellis had fallen down, and from underneath it, she was hearing language that she didn't think Slim knews.

Jean lifted the trellis off of him and asked, "Are you all right?" He lay there and blinked up at her for a moment, before finally muttering.

_"O she doth teach the torches to burn bright.  
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night.  
As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear—  
Beauty too rich for use, for earth, too dear." _

"Are you all right?" Jean asked again. Scott started chuckling humorlessly.

"Oh, this one is going to be ranked right up there with 'Marvel Girl, get clear!'" Scott cleared his throat.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just got knocked silly." Jean helped him to his feet.

"I've got to give you one thing, Slim. You sure know how to make an entrance."

"And one day," Scott added dryly, "I may even make one on my feet." Jean smirked at him.

"I think you'd better come inside and let me take a look at you, to see if you're still in one piece. You're bleeding."

* * *

"Well I think you need stitches," Jean grumbled as she inspected the wound on Scott's wrist. "It's pretty deep and bleeding freely. I don't know if you nicked the vein or not." She looked up at Scott.

"I'm going to pack it. Then we're going to have Hank and the professor take a look at it." Scott wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying. He was just studying her intently. Jean wondered for a moment if he felt the tension in the room building, too.

"Something wrong Red?" He asked quietly. And Jean wondered for a moment if she were that easy to read. 

"Why would you ask that?" she replied. "You're the one bleeding all over my bedroom." Scott shrugged.

"You're just not yourself tonight." Jean sighed.

"I got dumped for a bimbo."

"A bimbo — the cause of many a great man's fall. You almost sound jealous."

"Why would I be jealous of a dizzy, big busted bimbo who puts out on the first date? ... just because I keep getting dumped for them." 

"Don't be jealous. Bimbos bore me." Jean sighed.

"You're the wonderful exception to the rule then, Slim."

"Funny, most people call me cold, prickly, moody, and displaying antisocial behavior. Remember, Jean. Beauty fades. What's inside doesn't. Watch an older couple someday. If the man still looks at his wife when thy're eighty like she's still the most beautiful woman in the world to him, you know there's more to her than just looks. And I can almost guarantee she didn't put out on the first date, either."

"I'll be appreciated for the great catch I am when I'm eighty?" Jean asked, sighing, and really wishing she could see his eyes. That way, she'd know if he meant what he was telling her. Scott just studied her for a moment before responding.

"You know how long it takes men to grow up. The really lucky ones are those who find someone who tolerates them for being true to themselves. You know — someone who'll put up with your little obsessions at three in the morning. My advice to you would be, Don't settle. Be true to yourself first, and the rest will fall into place." For just a moment, Scott let his walls down so Jean could _feel_ with her telepathy that he was being sincere.

Jean absorbed what he said, and then asked, "How'd you get to be so smart? You don't even date."

"Brain damage." Scott stated dryly. "Now if you'll pardon me. I have to be going." He headed towards the balcony.

"Why are you leaving? You're still bleeding. And why are you leaving _that_ way?" Scott shrugged at her.

"I have to go find Bobby, and I might as well hit him before I have to worry about ripping out stitches. I'm leaving by the balcony so none of the others get the wrong idea."

Before Scott could leap off, Jean blurted, "Do you want to go see _Romeo and Juliet_ tomorrow night?" He blinked back at her.

"Not really. I hate that play. Every time I'm forced to read it, all I can think is, 'What a waste.' Romeo was an idiot. Juliet wasn't much better. The only way I'd have liked that play is if they'd strung up the Friar at the end for causing the whole disaster." Jean smirked at him.

"You're not much of a romantic, are you?"

Scott was looking down at the ground, measuring distance. 

"Not really." Then he jumped off the balcony and landed on his feet. Turning, he saluted Jean.

"Thanks for the bandage. I have to go find Bobby now. "

As he vanished into the dark, Jean could have sworn she heard him say, _"Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow."_

* * *

"You can't ground us." Warren announced hotly. "We didn't do anything wrong. Don't you think you should be grounding Bobby for whatever he did now?"

"I'm in the mood to punish stupidity," Professor Xavier shot back. "I did just finish your research paper, which had very little research in it. As for Bobby, don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"Professor!" Warren and Hank protested at once. Right then, Scott came in the front door, slamming it behind him, and his eyes fell on Bobby immediately. Bobby paled and let out a gulp.

"Hey, Slim. How's it hanging?" Scott shot Bobby a look.

"Hanging was the last term you wanted to use." And he leapt for Bobby, managing to grab him this time and put him in a headlock.

"Professor, a little help over here!" Bobby grasped. But as Scott had him around the throat, his plea didn't come out loudly, and Xavier was still involved with Hank and Warren on the other side of the room, his back to Bobby.

"Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?" Scott whispered in Bobby's ear.

"I have a pretty good imagination." Bobby choked back.

"Good. But it won't even compare to the real thing," Scott replied quietly.

"Uh, Slim? Before you kill me?" Bobby grasped "You're bleeding through your bandage." Scott glanced at his wrist, and it was still oozing through the bandage.

"Yeah, I guess I am. I'm starting to feel a little woozy, too. This is your fault. I fell off the roof."

"Professor," Bobby called as he felt Scott's headlock loosen a bit.

"Not now, Robert. As soon as I settle this, we're heading up to the roof to let Scott down."

"He's already down, sir, and he's going to be bleeding all over your good carpet." Bobby replied. Professor Xavier swung his chair around, and looked in Bobby and Scott's direction.

"Oh, Good Lord! Bobby, call the emergency room. Tell them we're coming. Scott, put that arm up and put your head between your knees so you don’t pass out on me. Warren, Hank, go get the med kit."

"Don't worry, sir. Scott put the emergency room in to speed dial," Bobby shouted as he headed towards the kitchen. "Hey, Nancy's on duty tonight. Isn't that cool. She want's to know if Hank's eyebrows grew back okay."

"Bid Nurse Williams my fondest regards," Hank called, as he walked into the room, carrying the med-kit. "Is the alluring Dr. McKay on duty tonight, too?" Xavier grabbed the med-kit from Hank.

"And to think, I believed I was done with emergency medical after I left the army," Xavier said dryly, as he re-packed Scott's wound. "I've spent more time in emergency rooms since the four of you came here than all my years as a practicing doctor. Would you mind telling me how you managed this one, Scott?" Scott shrugged and raised his head.

"I fell off the roof. I either cut it on a gutter or a sharp patch of ice on the way down. It's not too bad. It's not pumping and I can move all my fingers."

"Head between the knees. And I strictly forbade any of you to go up on the roof at this time of year. It's too icy and dangerous. You could have fallen off and broken you neck," Xavier snapped.

"I caught myself on Jean's trellis on the way down," Scott said, raising his head from between his knees again. Jean suddenly appeared back in the living room, and Xavier snapped at Scott.

"I told you, head down. Robert, when you're done on the phone, bring a glass of orange juice. Jean, I have a solution to your dilemma. Scott can take you to go see _Romeo and Juliet_ tomorrow night."

"I hate _Romeo and Juliet_ ," Scott objected, lifting his head from between his knees for a third time.

"Your objection is noted and ignored. Consider it punishment for going up on the roof. You will take her to that play and be a good date, not your usual moody, prickly cactus routine. You don’t get out enough. Besides, perhaps seeing it performed will give you an appreciation for the play that you didn't find when we read it in class. And I said head down."

"Like _you_ can talk about getting out," Warren grumbled.

"I heard that, Warren," Xavier stated coldly.

"But, sir!" Scott started to object.

"I said head between the knees." Professor Xavier said that in his 'I'm-not-taking-any-arguments' tone. "Robert, tell Nurse Williams that we should be at the emergency room in about ten minutes."

* * *

Jean was lying in bed, reading a book when Warren stuck his head into her room.

"So," he asked, "How'd the ordered date go?" Jean put down her book.

"It went fine. Scott was very nice and the perfect gentleman." Warren smirked at that.

"And we'll pay for all that forced niceness in the Danger Room in the morning. I think I'll make it a point not to set my alarm. So our resident cactus wasn't prickly?" Jean chuckled at Warren.

"Well, there was an incident. The girl who took our coats gave Scott a strange look about the bandage on his wrist. Scott announced that he'd heard the Bee Gee's were getting back together, and he just couldn't take it." She giggled. "I dragged him to our seats, and then he was good for the rest of the evening." Warren chuckled, too.

"I know Valentine's Day didn't turn out the way you wanted it to. If it makes you feel any better, the rest of us ended up doing double sessions in the Danger Room." Jean shrugged.

"I can't say I had a bad time. Scott just didn't say hardly two words together the whole time we were out — well, beyond the Bee Gees crack. I think his wrist was bothering him, and he refused to admit it."

"Add to that the fact he really hates _Romeo and Juliet_ ," Warren smirked at her. "Someday I'll have to pull out a copy of his essay. Professor Xavier made us write one on for that play. Let's just say Scott wasn't very nice to it. 'A view into human stupidity' was the nicest thing he called it. Sounds like you got off easy tonight." Jean chuckled to herself.

"Yeah. I guess I did. Did he really call it 'a view into human stupidity'?" Warren rolled his eyes.

"His exact words. If it makes you feel any better, too, Mike's a moron. Shelly doesn't have a thing that remotely holds a candle to you, Jeannie. If given the choice between a girl like you and a girl like Shelly, I'd choose you, hands down. No contest." Jean smiled at Warren.

"Thanks. That means a lot."

"Well," Warren said, looking embarrassed, "I have to get going. Light's out in ten minutes. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Happy St. Valentines Day, or at least what's left of it."

"You too, Warren." Jean replied. Jean was just about to turn off her lights and go to bed, fluffing her pillows, when she found something tucked under her pillow. It was a small, wrapped package with a card attached. The card simply read: "This above all —" Inside the box lay a little gold, heart-shaped locket with the words, "To thine own self be true," engraved on it. Jean started laughing. Even without a signature, she knew from whom the locket must had come.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Slim."


	11. Chemical Imbalances, Kissing, and Other Sappy Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins with a sick Scott, takes a memory trip through a number of pivotal events in their joint history, and ends with a ceiling full of stars, and an albatross. Oh, and a kiss, too.

"Blast it, Moira. You and I have ripped all the data and test results apart, and we still can't find what's wrong with Scott." Jean Grey stood very still in the shadows of the hall, listening breathlessly as the professor directed his frustration at a computer monitor in the medical lab. She heard a woman sigh and reply in a heavy Scottish accent.

"I'm guessing his condition is being caused by his old head injury. Not only does the damage not allow him to control his powers, but it's also interfering with his body making the subtle changes needed for his mutant powers to manifest completely. That's the cause o' the headaches, and this recent bout as well." Jean inched in a little closer so she could hear the professor's reply.

"A migraine is a far cry from a full blown seizure, Moria."

"Not necessarily," The Scottish woman replied from the monitor. "Scott's earlier doctors diagnosed him with borderline epilepsy and speculated that the headaches were minor seizures."

"That was before anyone knew he was a mutant," Charles replied. "I assure you, my powers can give me blinding migraines when I push them too far. And as I went through puberty, I also got blinding migraines as a matter of course. As far as my research has shown, many mutants do. Henry and I honestly believe it's some form of chemical imbalance. But I think Scott's headaches are a totally different problem and not related to his immediate condition."

"But you can't deny the blinding headaches seemed to bring on this condition," the Scottish woman fired back.

"I'm not saying you're wrong. I agree with you; I think his present condition does have something to do with the brain damage he suffered. That brain damage is throwing something off chemically as his powers develop and that's what threw him into the seizure. I honestly think the headaches are something completely different. I can't exactly explain it, but Scott has been 'off.' He's been moodier than normal lately and his concentration has been almost nonexistent." The professor got very quiet for a few moments.

"Moria, both of us have seen some rough transitions as a mutant power manifested and developed. Scott could very well be one of the unlucky ones." There was no reply from the Scottish woman for a while.

"That could be the case. Scott is completely unique. We have no other mutant like him even to go by. We'd only speculated that rechannelers like him existed until we examined Scott. We honestly thought that high energy wielders were like Eric and psychic in the nature of the energy they wielded." Jean heard the woman grumble under her breath for a moment.

"Remind me I owe you lunch for that. I was wrong and you were right." She sighed. "But we have absolutely no blueprint to go by when it comes to treating Scott."

"Which is half of our problem," the professor butted in. "We have no clue what _is_ 'normal' for Scott for the time being. If I had only managed to approach him sooner before his powers manifested, we might have something better to go on."

"We'd still be running into the same problems," the Scottish woman replied. "We'd still not have any case to compare him to in order to monitor the changes and chemical surges that puberty produces, and we'd still not have a clue what 'normal' ranges are for Scott." The woman on the other end of the line was very quiet for a while. She suddenly replied in a voice no louder than a whisper.

"Charles, as you said, you and I have both seen some rough transitions as mutant powers manifested. We have also seen a human being not survive that transition." Jean decided right there that she couldn't bear to hear any more of that conversation. Scott was not going to die, damn it. He had come to mean too much to her and she wasn't going to lose another friend like she'd lost Annie. She carefully crept out of the shadows she was hiding in and made her way back to the room in the infirmary where Scott was staying. When she got down to Scott's room she found Bobby inside dancing around and chanting, "I won. I won." Scott was glaring at Bobby, giving him a very annoyed look. Scott noticed her as she walked in and held up a card with a color square in the middle of it.

"What is this color?" he demanded.

"Orange," Jean answered. Scott scowled at her and then turned to Bobby.

"Fine, damn it, you won." That started another round of dancing and chanting from Bobby.

"I don't even know why I agreed to play anyway," Scott grumbled. "I hate this game." That's when Jean noticed that the two of them were playing _Candy Land_. Bobby stuck his tongue out at Scott.

"You just assume that because you cheat everyone else does too. You're the one who shot down cards." Scott sneered back at Bobby.

"I was not going to play poker with Hank. He counts cards and cheats." Bobby rolled his eyes in response and wisely chose not to respond to that comment. Scott had a terrible reputation for cheating when he was faced with losing. She smirked at Scott.

"Is that the pot calling the kettle black?" The thing that bothered Jean was Scott didn't fire a retort back at her or Bobby; in fact he seemed to have lost interest in the conversation altogether and his attention had drifted towards something across the room. Jean caught the worried look Bobby didn't manage to hide.

" _How is he doing?_ " Jean asked Bobby telepathically. Bobby shot her a very concerned look when he thought Scott wouldn't notice.

" _He's been like that all morning. He can't seem to keep his mind focused on anything for too long. He's only aware his attention is drifting part of the time._ "

"Well," Bobby said out loud suddenly. That seemed to snap Scott's attention back to them.

"I have to get going. I'm leaving you to Red's tender mercy, Scott." Bobby turned to her with a smirk. "Try not to kill him, Red." With that remark, Bobby grabbed his books and left the infirmary.

"Hey," Jean announced as she walked over and plopped down next to Scott's feet. Scott moved his feet over to give her more room.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Scott grumped. Jean smacked him playfully on the thigh.

"I mean it. How are you doing?"

"It's been a lousy week." Jean chuckled softly to herself. Slim could be the master of understatement sometimes. Scott ran his hand through his hair.

"First off, I flunked my genetics test. Then I had the seizure. My concentration is shot because my head feels fuzzy. I can't seem to focus on anything for very long. To top it off, the professor has no idea what's wrong with me and every time my migraine comes back he dopes me up so badly, I can't feel my nose." Scott gave her a totally annoyed look.

"Oh, yeah, he won't let me out of bed either. I'm going completely stir crazy. Don't even get me started on the amount of blood the professor and Hank have taken in the past twenty-four hours. I should just slit one of my wrists and drip it into a bucket. It would save them a lot of time." Jean knew Scott was confined to bed because the professor wasn't taking any chances due to the possibility that either an artery or a vein was ballooning in his head or something was bleeding inside his skull. Despite the battery of X-rays and scans they had given him, the lab reports hadn't shown them anything. Scott was confined to bed to keep his blood pressure as low as possible.

"So," Scott grumbled. "Is it your turn to baby-sit?"

"No," she replied. "I'm avoiding studying for the math test the professor is giving us tomorrow." Jean smirked at Scott impishly.

"I figured even visiting you down here was still better than studying math." Scott actually smirked back at her. "Gee, thanks. It's nice to know I rank before math class." Scott reached over for what looked like a paint bucket on his bedside table.

"You want one? I couldn't possibly finish all of these by myself." The bucket was full of 'Super, super, fiery, hot balls.' "I don't know what Bobby was thinking, getting me this huge thing." Jean took a handful of hot balls.

"That you won't be able to finish it by yourself, so Bobby will have something to munch on when he comes to hang out and keep you company. To think the Iceman has a taste for fireballs; the hotter, the better. If I didn't know better, I'd think he missed his roommate too."

Scott flinched at that remark and replied, "Please don't remind me. I can picture what my dorm room looks like already. His dirty clothes are most likely spread all over my bed. As for the something to munch on... " Jean could tell he was rolling his eyes behind his glasses as he pulled out a package of cherry fruit pies from a drawer in the night stand next to the bed.

"Apparently I'm not sick enough to get any Twinkies from Hank yet."

"You hate Twinkies. That's why Hank calls you an uneducated barbarian." Jean snatched up the package of fruit pies. "I didn't even get one bowl of Fruitloops, and you're getting junk food thrown at you. Did Warren give you junk food too?"

"Yes, but the sour apple blow pops are mine. You can have the dirty magazines he gave me though."

Jean crinkled her nose and replied, "No, I think I'll pass on those. I'm taking a cherry fruit pie."

"Oh, come on," Scott reached for a stack of magazines he had under his pillow. He pulled one out and read her the lead article headline. "Doesn't the article 'Breast Implants: do they feel any different?' interest you at all?" Jean smirked at him and shook her head no, and Scott flipped to a new magazine. 

"How about 'August Sultriest Redheads'?" Scott studied the cover with a scantily clad red head with some interest. "I might keep this one. I wouldn't want to hurt Warren's feelings." Jean smacked him playfully for that remark.

"You want to play a game?" Scott gave her a very serious look for a moment as he put the magazines in the drawer he had pulled the fruit pies out of.

"You don't need to stay and keep me company if you have a test to study for. That should be your first priority." Jean snatched up the cards that were lying on his bedside table and handed them to him.

"Shut up and deal the cards, Summers." They ended up playing _Candy Land_ because Scott couldn't concentrate enough to follow card games. His attention kept drifting so even the simplest game of fish was almost impossible for him. Jean ended up taking a black permanent marker and marking the color cards and patches on the board with symbols so Scott could play since he couldn't see the colors.

"Gee, look," Scott stated dryly as he moved his game piece. "I'm back in the marshmallow swamp. What do you think? Should I buy a condo or build a new house?" Jean rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, I've been stuck in the lollipop forest so long I should build a campground." Scott was going to fire back a comment when he got this dazed dreamy look on his face.

"Scott?" Jean asked quietly. "Are you all right?" She did a quick telepathic scan of Scott and got something similar comparable to static — mental white noise. She pushed the swing bed table with their game on it out of the way. 

"Scott? Are you all right? Can you hear me?" she again asked quietly. Scott's response was to start jerking uncontrollably.

" _It was amazing_ ," Jean thought, as everything seemed to flow in to slow motion, how self-preservation came to her mind first. When Scott started seizing, her first thought was to hold his glasses to his face and make sure they didn't slip. If his glasses slipped, he could do huge amounts of damage to her, the mansion, and anyone who came running in to help. She was just about to shout for the professor when he and Hank came bursting in to the room.

"Jean!" The professor barked. "Make sure his glasses don't get dislodged." Jean nodded and quickly backed into a corner to get out of their way. The professor ordered Hank to hand him a dosage of some medication. Scott continued to jerk uncontrollably on the bed. Jean had only felt this useless once in her life and that when she was holding Annie's broken, dying body in her arms knowing there was nothing she could do to stop her from slipping away.

"Please don't do this to me, Slim," she whispered quietly under her breath. "You need to get better; this albatross needs you." And her mind drifted back to the day he'd called her that for the first time.

* * *

"Oh, come on, Slim," Bobby Drake was whining as she entered the kitchen. "It'll be fun." Scott looked up from the newspaper he was scribbling on with a pen, and held Bobby's eye.

"No, and that's my final answer on the topic," Scott stated.

"The final answer on what topic?" Jean asked as she got herself a bowl of cereal.

Bobby shrugged at her and replied, "We wanted Slim to come with us this weekend. We're heading up to Warren's vacation home up in the mountains. I thought Scott getting out of the mansion for a while would be good for him. Want to come?" Jean bit her lip considering the offer for a moment before replying.

"I can't. My Mom and Dad are dropping off some stuff I need and visiting me this weekend." Scott smirked at her from across the table.

"That's Jean speak for 'My mother told me to pack my warmer clothes and the more practical shoes. I was stubborn, didn't listen, and now they have to drop them off to me as the weather is getting colder.'" Jean sneered at him as a comeback. Scott's smirk got a little wider, and she stuck her tongue out at him to respond to his smirk. Bobby turned his attention back to Scott.

"Please?" he simply asked. Scott glared at Bobby again. 

"No, I have a date this weekend." Bobby almost fell out of the chair he was sitting in and Jean choked on a spoonful of cereal.

"With a girl?" Bobby blurted.

"What's her name?" Jean fired back from the other side of the table. Scott glared at them annoyed.

"Is it so unbelievable that I have a date?" Bobby smiled at him sweetly.

"Well, we are talking about you, Slim." Scott turned his head to glare at Bobby yet again.

"Her name's Katy, and that is all you need to know." Bobby's face suddenly lit up with mischief.

"Wait until I tell Hank and Warren about this." With that, Bobby bolted out of the kitchen.

"Great, just great," Scott grumbled. "Now all three of them will stalk me for details."

"What are you writing?" Jean asked, changing the topic. She'd get the details about his date that the guys managed to bully out of Scott later.

"Nothing," Scott replied rudely. Jean reached across the table and snatched the paper out from under his pen.

"Come on, if you're doing the crossword puzzle I want to help." When she saw what he had been scribbling ,she smirked at him.

"Don't you think that's a bit childish?" she asked, her eyes dancing mischievously. She was looking at the horns, mustache, and devil tail Scott had drawn on Brian Henderson's picture. Brian and Scott had a long-standing grudge. Jean never understood completely where the grudge between the two of them had come from. Scott and Brian had hated each other at first sight. Brian had set out to make Scott's life hell since he started living in Westchester. Following the picture was an announcement stating Brian had gotten a full athletic scholarship to Harvard. She could just imagine what Hank was going to say about the announcement when he finally saw it. Jean was almost certain it would be nothing nice.

Scott blushed a little before snapping out, "Maybe, but I only blacked out one tooth. Brian makes the perfect dark haired, blued-eyed, two hundred and eighty pound, football MVP, class president, and prom king a target. Did I forget to mention that I don't particularly care for him?" She smirked at him.

"I got that impression." Scott snatched the paper back from her.

"And I thought I hid the dislike so well too." Jean was having fun yanking Scott's chain and catching him acting petty for once.

"Well, I am psychic. I don't know what you hold against poor Brian. He and I went out once or twice and I had a very good time."

"Did you?" he asked too innocently. "I wasn't aware of that fact. Brian's perfect, don't you know? Read the newspapers: 'Westchester's own Golden Boy.'" Scott gave the picture a sneer.

"No doubt he'll find the cure for cancer someday. Never mind that he and his entire family are the biggest snobs I've ever met." Scott gave her a mock haughty look. 

"I bet Brain can't send old women running into the streets by simply lighting up his eyes behind his visor-of-doom or whistle 'Dixie,' while eating crackers and covering one eye." Jean threw her head back and started laughing.

"Now you really are being petty."

Scott shot an annoyed look in her direction and responded, "Maybe. Give me some time and I'll come up with a rational reason for hating him." Suddenly the front door bell rang and Jean got up from the table.

"That must be my parents." Her parents stayed twenty minutes tops — just long enough for her to miss going up to the mountains with Warren, Hank and Bobby. They essentially chucked her stuff at her, told her how much they loved her, to keep up the good work, and headed out the door saying they wanted to see the pictures of the twins that Sarah had just gotten back. The part that annoyed Jean the most was the twins weren't even born yet, and would most likely look like ink splotches or misshapen lizards. She was already getting blown off for the grandkids. She was sitting on the couch pouting when Scott walked down the stairs with his coat on. Scott studied her for a moment and shook his head smirking.

"Let me guess," he stated in rather dry amusement, "You got blown off for two small blots in a photograph?" Jean cross her arms over her chest and glared at him, before replying.

"Shut up, Summers." After that response Scott chuckled out in amusement.

"You're already getting blown off for the grandkids. Did anyone ever tell you that you act like a three year old when you pout?" Jean sneered in his direction and raised her right hand to give him her middle finger. Scott found that very amusing before responding.

"Now I know you've been hanging around with the guys too long." He smirked at her again. "I've started to have a horrible influence on you. What would your father think of his little girl using a gesture like that?" In response, Jean used both hands and eyed a vase across the room. She wondered how badly the professor would punish her for hurling a priceless heirloom at Scott's head. Jean was taken by complete surprise by the next thing out of Scott's mouth.

"If you can be ready to go in fifteen minutes, you can come along with me today." Jean blinked at him in surprise for a moment.

"What about your date today?" she blurted.

He shrugged and answered, "Katy will be cool with it. I'll just have to stop and buy her some candy along the way." Scott suddenly sent her a smirk that lit up his whole face. "Katy will understand that you happen to be my personal albatross and you need a keeper."

"Albatross?" Jean asked not quite getting the reference. The smirk never left Scott's face. Jean swore if she could have seen his eyes at that moment, they would have been alight with mischief.

"Yup," Scott replied. "An albatross is considered both a sailor's boon and bane. You have to keep a very close eye on an albatross, or it will make a huge mess. It's an annoying, messy, frustrating bird to deal with, and most of the time a sailor just wants to kill it, but for all their annoying aspects, an albatross will always show a sailor home safely. So an albatross is considered very bad luck to kill, no matter how annoying it is." Scott suddenly smiled at her.

"When Katy told me that story, I thought it fit you perfectly." Jean gave him a dry look.

"Gee, thanks."

Scott looked her straight in the eye and stated, "My offer is open for another twelve minutes. Are you coming or not?" Jean nodded yes and headed up the stairs to get dressed. She threw some cloths on and quickly ran a brush through her wild red hair. Looking in the mirror she decided she was reasonably fit to be seen in public and hurried downstairs to where Scott stood, stuffing a book and a few other items in to his backpack.

"That was fast. No _Cosmopolitan_ look today?" he stated with amusement, as he watched her descend. Jean looked down at her old blue jeans and her green sweater the exact shade of her eyes, and gave Scott a snotty look.

"Maybe I didn't want to make you look bad today, Summers. Just for future reference, it takes time for a woman to get ready." He gave her an exasperated look.

"We have a bus to catch, and you're always running late." His expression changed to a thoughtful one and he added, "I didn't calculate in you actually getting ready in under the time limit. So we're early."

"Very funny," She shot him a glare. "I am not always late."

"Fifteen to twenty minutes." He chirped back gleefully. "You're the 'A snooze button is a poor excuse for no alarm clock at all' type of person. You're delightfully predictable in your unpredictability — a very interesting paradox."

"You know that's what I love about you sometimes, Scott; you really know how to sweet talk a lady. You and Hank have been spending way too much time hanging out together. Keep up the math talk and I'm going to retaliate with a lesson on fall hem lines." Scott threw up his hands up in a conceding gesture.

"I surrender — you win. Anything but fashion and hem lines."

"You know," Jean blurted out as the thought came to her. "We don't have to take the bus. I could drive us to where ever we're going." He shot her a dubious look.

"I would really like to get there alive, thanks."

Putting her hands on her hips, she fired back, "My driving isn't that bad."

"Most people don't take turns on two wheels," he replied calmly. "Not to mention almost running down two of her teammates who were walking up the drive, minding their own business, while she was going ninety miles an hour. I don't think Hank and Bobby are ever going to recover. Every time they see you blasting up the drive now, they instinctively dive for cover." She glared at him annoyed.

"I don't know why all of you are making such a big deal about this. I didn't hit them."

"Only because both of them dove into a ditch to avoid the path of your oncoming car." He grinned at her suddenly. "You know, most people try to steer the car _away_ from pedestrians not towards them. Then there was the time you knocked Warren's side mirror off, and glued it back on with Super Glue. Or the time you managed to get that huge scratch along the side of the professor's Buick and tried it hide it with six bottles of nail polish."

"Okay, okay," Jean grumbled. "Quit the ragging."

"Somebody has to; Hank's too traumatized to do it since you almost ran him down." Jean gave him a completely annoyed look and headed towards the door.

"Don't we have a bus to catch? Or are you going to make us late for a change?" Scott's grin got bigger as he motioned for her to walk through the door first. They sat next to each other on the bus headed for downtown, Scott closest to the window, reading.

"So how long have you been seeing Katy?" He watched her descend. Scott looked up from his book, shrugged and replied.

"For a few months on the weekends."

"You haven't said anything about her until today." She hoped Scott didn't see through to her real motives; to know the enemy gave you an advantage towards defeating the enemy. He looked up from his book again.

"Nothing much to tell."

"Well what's she like? Spill your guts, Slim." Scott closed his book, and put it back in his backpack. He turned to look at her and sighed.

"She's a feisty redhead and she can be a bit blunt at times. Don't take it personally if she decides to get a bit rude."

" _So Katy was a redhead_ ," Jean thought; already she and Katy were going to have issues.

"You do realize redheads tend to have horrible tempers," she suddenly blurted out without thinking.

Scott raised an eyebrow at her and replied sarcastically, "Really I never noticed? Redheads have tempers? It's not like the one I go to school with hasn't tried to brain me with a blunt object upon occasion. What do you think? Is she some sort of mutant redhead?" Jean smacked him for that line.

"Very funny. You deserved getting something hurtled at your head, and you knew it too, you jerk."

"I don't think being right constitutes getting something thrown at my head, thank you very much." He rolled his eyes behind his glasses. "We'll get along so much better if you'll just accept the fact that I'm always right."

"I wouldn't hold my breath for that day, Slim." She grinned at him and chirped, "You need someone to argue with or you're not happy." The bus started slowing down and he suddenly tugged on her elbow, rising from his seat.

"Come on, this is our stop." They headed over to the store across from their bus stop. Inside, Scott started piling candy necklaces, bracelets, rings with the lollipop gems, and gold coins on the counters for the clerk to ring up. Jean watched him with some interest.

"Gee Slim, most woman go for a box of chocolates. Either Katy is really strange or she's really young." She blinked at him innocently. "I don't have to worry about you doing anything illegal, do I?"

"All the time," he stated dryly. "But not with Katy." Scott gave her a completely amused look. "As for the candy, I'll have to buy your way on board ship, Wench, or the Captain will make you walk the plank. Redheads tend to by very territorial, you know — like wolves." Jean gave him an infuriated look and smacked him on the arm playfully as the clerk gave them strange looks.

"Did I mention what a sweet talker you are?"

"You might have mentioned it before."

"You know," she stated mischievously. "I should tell Katy about the 'wolves' remark. Then we might gang up against you."

"Like wolves would?" he shot back gleefully. Her only response was another smack on his arm.

"That will be five dollars and sixty-three cents," the clerk informed them. Scott threw six dollars on the counter. When the clerk gave him his changed he threw the change in a can for blind children and headed them both towards the door. Jean caught a thought the clerk was projecting as they walked out.

" _Young love. Those two make a very cute couple._ " She looked over her shoulder, and gave the clerk a huge ear-to-ear smile as she walked out the door on Scott's arm. They walked about a block from the store up to an older building. It was very well maintained and in good condition. As they approached the door, Jean saw a sign that said simply, "Haven House." Jean stopped, examining the sign a little more carefully, then turned to Scott.

"So what is this place?" she asked him.

Scott shrugged and replied, "A battered woman and children's shelter. I got hauled down here once, and that's how I met Katy. She and her mom are staying her for a while." Scott pulled an ID of some form out of his backpack and clipped it on his jacket.

"You're going to have to stick by me until they give you a visitor's pass," he informed her "Because the women staying here have restraining orders filed for their own protection. The management of the house likes to keep close track of whose coming and going. You're going to have to sign in before they'll give you a visitor's pass."

"Got it," Jean respond. "I guess they don't want anyone sneaking in who's not allowed?" He nodded as he turned the doorknob to let them in.

"Exactly, some of the women staying here are in fear for their lives. Not all shelters are run this way or this efficiently but Shelly, who runs the place, runs a very tight ship." They walked in to a rather large entrance hall. As Jean looked around she realized the whole hallway's design and color scheme were designed to give a sense of security and safety. It was a bright welcoming place. Scott approached an older, middle-aged black woman who sat at a counter in what looked like a reception area. She gave him the biggest smile when they walked in.

"Hey Slim," she called. "It's great to see you."

Scott grinned at her and answered, "You too, Jade."

"I brought some macaroni-and-cheese in today — your favorite. I also brought some fried chicken. It's in the back. Don't let me catching you only eating the mac-and-cheese, Scott. I keep telling you white folk that macaroni-and-cheese is a side dish, not a main course." She inspected Scott up and down.

"Don't they feed you where you're from?" Scott chuckled, amused, like this was an old argument between them.

"I'll go clean out the fried chicken later. I keep telling you macaroni-and-cheese _is_ a main course. Is Katy here?"

"It's only a side dish," she fired back as she punched in a code on her phone. "And make sure your skinny girlfriend gets some of the chicken. She needs it." She then grumbled out, "What is it with you white folk and being skinny anyway? If there's a little meat on your bones, it's only more to love." Someone must have picked up on the other side of the line Jade had dialed.

"Shelly, Scott's here to see Katy. Can I send him up? He brought a..." Jade winked at her, and Jean decided right there she was going to like this woman. "... a _female friend_ with him today. Can I send her up too? Yes, it appears Slim does indeed have a girlfriend. Some of the older girls around here are going to be heart-broken."

"She is not my girlfriend," Scott protested loudly, blushing a little. "She's a close friend, I go to school with." Jade covered the mouthpiece of the telephone.

"Shelly said she heard that and you are protesting way too much for her not to be your girlfriend. 'Bout time you got yourself a life." Scott groaned and blushed a little redder. Jade chuckled at that display and took her hand off the mouthpiece.

"I'll send them both right up." She hung up the phone, gave Jean a wide grin and offered a hand. "Hi, I'm Jade and regardless of what Shelly might tell you later, I run this nut house."

"Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Jean," she responded, shaking the older woman's hand. "Otherwise known as 'not-Scott's-girlfriend.'" That response pulled another groan from Scott. Jade winked at her once more as her grin got a little bigger.

"I'm going to have you sign in, Jean. Then I'm going to give you a pass that you will have to turn back in when you leave." Jade pointed to a book on the left side of the counter for Jean to sign. Before Jade could hand her a pass, an orange streak came out of nowhere and leaped in Scott's direction. The streak hit Scott with enough force that he staggered back a few steps, and it seemed suddenly, almost out of nowhere, there was an eight-year old girl in Scott's arms, wrapped all around him.

"Hey Katy," Scott chuckled softly. "Nice to see you too." Katy, who was a big mess of red curls, the classic carrot top, took a deep breath.

"Mommy left Haven House and went back home to Daddy. I told Shelly I didn't want to go home with her because Daddy hurts me. Mommy cried at first, and then started yelling at me when I wouldn't go home with her to Daddy. She called me all kind of nasty names. Now, Shelly wants me to talk to this lady, and the lady wants to put me in a foster home. I don't want to go. I want to stay here." Katy noticed her over Scott's shoulder.

"And who's that?" Scott hugged her gently and replied.

"That's Jean — a friend of mine from school." Katy looked Jean up and down.

"She's a redhead. Why am I not surprised?" Scott moaned out softly.

"I don't need it from you too."

"What makes you think I'm going to let her on board?" Katy demanded.

"The wench brought booty with her, Captain." Katy studied her again.

"What type of booty?" Scott handed her the bag of candy he'd bought earlier. Katy inspected the contents carefully. 

She has my permission to come aboard, for now. If she doesn't behave, I'll make her walk the plank."

"I'll do my best to keep the wench in line, Captain. She's here to see your boats." Katy's brown eyes lit up.

"Really? Why didn't you say that before? Come on."

If her vocabulary and knowledge was any indication, Katy was extremely bright. She could sit and explain sailboat design and navigation charts all day, without stopping for air. She informed Jean that her dream was to race for the America's Cup someday. The closest comparison Jean could come up with for Katy's boating enthusiasm was Scott's for flying and planes. Katy brought her up to her room, which was covered in pictures of sailing ships from floor to ceiling. Then she started explaining what every part of a sailing ship did and the basics of how to sail. By the time she got to navigation charts, Jean's head was spinning while Scott sat there and listened with a very amused expression on his face. Katy had taken a deep breath to start explaining another aspect of sailing when Scott butted in.

"I think she's had enough for the day, Captain; Jean's looking a bit overwhelmed. Besides I brought a present for you today." Katy snapped her mouth shut and looked at the confused look on Jean's face.

"I think you're right; she's definitely a land-lover." She turned her undivided attention in Scott's direction. "What did you get me?" Scott pulled the book out of his backpack that he'd packed earlier. Katy let out a shriek of delight.

"You got me _Treasure Island_?" She snatched the book and started dancing around the room chanting, "Thank you, Thank you — no one has ever got me a present I wanted before." A woman appeared in the doorway, checking out what all the shouting was about. Katy ran up to her to show the woman her new book proudly.

"Look Shelly, Slim got me _Treasure Island_." Shelly squatted down to take a closer look at the book.

"Very nice. Be sure you thank him properly," Shelly replied before got up. "Scott, can I talk to you for a moment in my office? I need to ask you a favor." Scott shrugged as he followed her out of Katy's room.

"Sure." He turned to Katy and asked, "You won't make Jean walk the plank will you?"

Katy shook her head no and replied, "She's safe." With that, Scott left, and Katy suddenly threw herself onto her bed.

"I hate them. They want Slim to talk to me about talking to that lady and going to that foster home," Kate announced. Jean sat down on the bed next to her.

"So what's the problem? Is the foster home they want to send you too that bad?"

"No, but if I go, who's going to take care of Slim?" Katy muttered. Jean blinked for a moment trying to comprehend where that answer came from.

"I'm pretty sure Slim can take care of himself, aren't you?"

"No," Katy hiccupped. "Slim pretends he can take care of himself and everyone falls for it. He needs a keeper. Slim would give his coat to a freezing person, not even thinking he'd freeze instead. He's really smart and clever about some things, and a complete ditz about other things." Jean absorbed that answer for a moment. The girl was completely right.

"You're right; he does need a keeper." She sighed. "Scott tries to dismiss himself with logic all the time, so he doesn't have to explain how much he cares. He needs someone to stand there and remind him he's worth caring about too." Jean calculated her tone to make Katy laugh.

"It's a constant struggle. Could I borrow a plank to break over his head, Captain?" Katy laughed and rolled her eyes.

"A boom would work much better, but you would have to get him on a ship to hit him upside the head with it." Katy expression got really serious. "Slim is a mutant. He tries to hide it, but his eyes glow sometimes. If that bothers you, you better let him down gently." Jean let out a laugh at that remark, and Katy was getting an angry look on her face.

"Can I show you something, Katy, if you promise to keep a secret?" Katy narrowed her eyes.

"Depends on what it is." Jean leaned in a little closer to whisper in Katy's ear.

"What if I told you that Slim being a mutant didn't bother me?" She reached out with her telekinesis and levitated the book off the bed.

"Cool," Katy whispered breathlessly.

"What happens if I cut you a deal, Katy? If you go talk to that lady and see what she has to say about going to a foster home, I'll take the duty upon myself to keep Slim out of trouble. How's that sound?" Katy studied her carefully.

"Promise?" she whispered loudly. 

Jean made a motion of a cross over her heart and replied, "Promise."

* * *

Jean was snapped out of her memories by the concerned face of Hank McCoy suddenly appearing in her line of vision. Hank studied her for a moment before asking.

"Jean, are you all right?" She took a shaky breath, having hysterics never helped any situation.

"Yeah, Hank, I'm fine. How's Scott?" Hank's eyes glanced to where Scott was slowly stirring on the bed. Professor Xavier was trying to get a coherent response out of him.

"This seizure was worse than the last one. As for how Scott is, I honestly don't know."

"Can I go talk to him?" Jean asked quietly.

"I wouldn't for a while," Hank informed her. "It's going to take some time for Scott to snap out of the aftereffects, and he'll be completely physically and emotionally exhausted. All Scott is going to want to do is sleep for a while." Hank grabbed her hand and lead her towards the door.

"Come on, let's go outside in the hall and talk." Jean waited until Hank had led her out and shut the door behind them. 

"Okay Hank, what's going on?" she asked. He sighed at her for a moment.

"I have no clue what's wrong with Scott."

"Neither does the professor, or the doctor he was talking to earlier," Jean grumbled. Hank eyebrow shot for his hair line.

"My, you've been a busy little spy haven't you?" Jean just glared back at him.

"Can it, Hank, and fill me in on what the hell is going on." He sighed.

"The professor and I tend to disagree on what is going on. The professor and the doctor he brought in tend to think this is all part of his mutant powers emerging. I disagree; I don't think this is the result of his mutant powers emerging, but of something 'gumming up the works,' you might say." Jean blinked for a moment.

"What's the difference?"

"Not too much." Hank sighed. "If it is a problem with another aspect of his mutant powers emerging, there's nothing we can really do about it but wait and see. If it is something 'gumming up the works,' however, we might be able to do something about that." Jean was quiet for a few moments considering that.

"You mean something gumming up the works like a food allergy or a reaction to an over-the-counter drug?" Hank nodded.

"Something like that. Mutant systems can be thrown out of balance rather easily." He gave her a grin that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Over-the-counter drugs aren't quite tested for mutant safety."

"No, they aren't." Jean sighed too. "I ought to know. A doctor almost overdosed me on regular pain-killers."

"Exactly — though as far as I know, Scott hasn't taken anything over-the-counter since the little Nyquil incident." Hank looked thoughtful. "It is conceivable that an unknown food allergy might be able to do something similar, and might explain the elevated white count."

"Like Warren and anything made with milk?"

"That isn't an allergy," Hank informed her, rather amused. "That is someone who's extremely lactose intolerant. Warren can't digest milk products anymore because his mutant system can't break them down. Makes him deathly ill. No, I was thinking more like Bobby and eggplant really."

"Scott doesn't have splotches all over him, and Bobby didn't have a reaction anything like this," Jean reminded him quietly.

"True." Hank turned to study the wall, and Jean could tell he was thinking out loud rather than answering her question. "Every mutant system seems to react differently. I could be completely off track too. I disagree with the professor about his elevated white count. His white count isn't all that high, so the professor think it's normal for Scott as his body is going through this process. I, on the other hand, think the white count is his body's reaction to something foreign."

"So," Jean said, trying to follow his train of thought. "The professor thinks the raised white count is a result of the stress of some new aspect of his mutant powers emerging, and that's the same thing giving him these fits? You, however, think all of this is a reaction to something not even related to his mutant powers?"

"Exactly," Hank said, turning to look at her again. "The problem with my theory is that his white count is up, but it's still in the fairly normal range. That's not a mutant's typical reaction to any type infection, because we have more effective immune systems. Any infection that could give him this type of reaction should send Scott's white count through the roof. That's where the professor and I are disagreeing." Hank sighed out loud. "The professor tested Scott for meningitis just to be safe and those tests came back negative. So I could very well be wrong."

Jean studied Hank for a moment before she asked, "How long until we know?" Hank shrugged for a moment and studied the wall again.

"If his white count suddenly spikes, then we'll know for sure it is an infection. If it's just some new aspect of his mutant powers emerging..." Hank's shoulders fell a little. "...then there's nothing we can do but wait. Emerging mutant powers are like a chick coming out of an egg, or a butterfly from a cocoon. The person going through it survives and jumps to the next level, or their entire mutant system burns itself out, trying." After that conversation with Hank, Jean wandered the mansion aimlessly for a while until she found herself climbing up towards the roof. She knew who she'd find up there. Warren always drifted to high places when something was bothering him.

"Hey," she announced as she spotted his form on the far corner of the roof. "I was wondering if you were up here. You haven't been down to see Scott that much."

"No, I guess I haven't been." Warren spoke around the cigarette in his mouth. Jean shook her head. Warren with a cigarette in his mouth always looked like a classic Greek statute with a cigarette in its mouth — out of place and ruining the whole effect.

"I thought you were going to quit?" Jean said, looking straight at the cigarette. Warren gave her an amused look as he took it out.

"Slim can't nag me about quitting, so you take up the slack, Red?"

"Something like that," Jean replied. Warren shrugged, pretending indifference.

"I am. Last pack. Once these are gone, I'm not buying any more."

"You want to talk about it?" she asked calmly. Despite Warren's indifferent mask, Jean had come to know him well enough to tell when something was bothering him.

"What's there to talk about?" Warren took a drag of his cigarette. "Scott's sick and no one knows what the hell is wrong with him. I'm pissed at Xavier for not letting me fly Scott over to Scotland to see a specialist. End of story." In short, Jean thought to herself, Warren was feeling as helpless as she was, and not taking it very well. Scott and Warren might fight bitterly most times, but they were close. The two of them were more alike than they wanted to admit sometimes. Scott always tried to dismiss how much he cared with a cold mask of logic, and Warren did it with a cold mask of indifference. Both hid very big hearts and tried not to let anyone see them.

"You haven't really been down to see Scott that much." Jean stated calmly.

"I don't like the Infirmary," Warren replied taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Don't like feeling helpless, Warren?" She studied him closely. Warren glared at her for that remark. His blue eyes really did remind Jean of a bird of prey at times.

"Bad memories," he snarled. "Happy now?" Jean made her way over to where he stood.

"I held my best friend in my arms while she died after being hit by a car. I never felt so helpless in my life as I did at that moment." Warren's look softened and he looked out over the mansion grounds.

"At least it was fast," he whispered quietly. "I watched my grandfather die of lung cancer." Warren flung the cigarette over the edge of the roof.

"One of the reason I'm determined I'm quitting. Two packs a day killed him. No amount of money or specialists could stop the cancer from spreading. All I could do was watch him lie there and moan. He was in so much pain by the end, the painkillers weren't even taking the edge off anymore. All I could do was watch him lie there and suffer. There's nothing worse than watching someone you love die inch by inch." Jean said nothing for a long time.

"I'm sorry about your grandfather, Warren." Warren sighed.

"So am I. One of the reasons I hate anything that even resembles a hospital. All I can hear is my grandfather moaning every time I walk in to one." He paused for a moment. "I'm sorry about your friend, too, Red." Jean hugged herself, suddenly feeling very cold.

"You're right at least that she didn't suffer. She was dead as soon as the car hit her. It doesn't really matter if it's quick and fast, or slow and agonizing." The next words almost came out as a sob. "In the end, they're still dead." She suddenly felt Warren's arms around her and his wings wrapped around them both.

"Hey, it's all right," she heard him whisper. "Scott wouldn't even think about having the nerve to die on us."

"He still could," she whispered into his chest. Warren snorted at that comment.

"Please. Scott's too much of a control freak to die on us. He won't let something like this kill him; he's just too damned stubborn." He smirked down at her. "Scott doesn't have his death penciled in until age ninety-nine or so. You think Scott will a little thing like this throw him off his schedule?" Jean looked up at Warren in shock.

"Scott has his death scheduled?" Warren nodded at her.

"Old age and in his sleep; nothing else will be 'acceptable.'" Jean actually chucked and then snorted.

"Figures."

"Yup," Warren stated. "That's Slim. You take him as he is, control-freak quirks and all." She felt herself grinning into Warren's chest.

"Only Scott would have the nerve to look death straight in the eye and tell death to come back later because he still has things to do and people to piss off."

"Don't forget," Warren added. "Scott would give him the bird and rip him a new one for not sticking to the schedule."

"Heaven forbid something happen that wasn't planned or scheduled," Jean added.

"Exactly, the two of us ought to know. We've be given that lecture enough."

"Warren," Jean whispered quietly. "I'm still scared we're going to lose him."

"Me too, Red," he murmured as he pulled her a little closer. "Me too."

* * *

Scott came awake, looking into a pair very concerned eyes and feeling as if he'd been trampled by an elephant.

"It's bad; you don't have to tell me. I can tell by the expression on your face."

"They really don't know what's wrong with you yet," Jean replied, gently looking down at him. "How are you feeling?" Scott didn't answer for a moment as he did a quick inventory.

"I feel like a limp noodle and my head is still killing me. Care to tell me what they do know? The professor has been dodging the topic."

"Honestly, not too much," she answered as she brushed his bangs off his forehead. "You have three different doctors disagreeing on what's wrong with you. Well, two doctors actually — the professor, a specialist he called in, and Hank. They don't seem to be agreeing on anything. Do you remember what happened?" Scott had to think about it; his brain was still fuzzy. "You and I were playing a game, and about then everything went black. I don't really remember the game very well." He reached up to touch his goggles.

"Someone put my goggles on."

"You're less likely to knock them loose and level the mansion with out meaning to."

"Good point." Scott suddenly felt very cold and began to shiver a little. He didn't seem to be able to get warm and felt like a chunk of ice. He was also getting a very sore throat.

"Move over." Jean announced, surprising him for a moment.

"Why? What are you planning on doing?" Scott asked suspiciously. Jean gave him a completely coy look.

"Why, Mr. Summers, what did I ever do to deserve that suspicious tone?" Scott glared at her or as close as he could come, as exhausted as he was.

"Every time you tell me to move over on the couch and I'm nice enough to do it, I end up with those ice blocks you call feet on my back somewhere." Jean grinned down at him, not even pretending to be apologetic.

"You're better than a heated pair of slippers, Scott. Remind me if we ever get stranded out in the Arctic, I'm snuggling with you."

"Planning on sucking the life's warmth out of me first?" Scott asked dryly, exaggerating his motions so Jean could tell he was rolling his eyes behind the goggles.

"Well, Warren's a hassle because you have to get around those wings of his," she replied as she started climbing next to him on the bed. "Now move over." He scooted over and gave her some room as Jean snuggled up next to him.

"I figure you can suck the warmth out of me for a change." He snorted for that remark but snuggled a little closer.

"You're just angling me in so you can get those feet of yours square in the middle of my back."

"Maybe," Jean replied in a devious tone. The real reason she was doing this was that she could sense he was scared, but didn't want anyone to know it. Part of him really needed someone to hold him right now. She snuggled in a little closer and replied with a grin.

"You know, it's amazing you and I ever became friends."

"Yup," He replied, "considering you have incredibly cold feet." For that remark, Jean smacked him gently and stuck her feet up against his legs.

"Hey, your feet are cold!"

"You would have been disappointed if I didn't do it." Jean grinned at him. "I was thinking more in the realm of the night after our first mission taking on Magneto, Dummy. We got off to a rather rocky start."

She heard him chuckle under his breath, "Our first fight. You called me a prick."

"Well," Jean fired back, "You called me a raging man-hater. You remember?"

* * *

"All right, where is he?" Jean demanded as she marched up to the three boys sitting like lumps on the couch watching TV. She was as mad as hell and was pretty sure the three of them could sense it.

"Where's who?" asked Bobby Drake, the youngest of the three, looking at her like she had grown two heads.

"Our Fearless Leader," she growled out planting her hands on her hips. "He and I need to have a talk." Hank McCoy gave her his most charming smile.

"Hey Babe, why don't you forget about Slim and plant it on the couch next to me?" He patted a spot a spot right next to him.

Jean glared down at him and asked coldly, "Would you like to take another flight around the room." Hank McCoy visibly paled that remark and turned to Worthington.

"I'm moving her up from high Beta female to Alpha for my research project."

"A very wise idea," Worthington replied, amused. Warren suddenly gave her his best charming smile.

"Is there something I can help you with, Miss Grey?" he asked.

"You can tell me where Slim is." She gave Warren a glare. Warren shrugged.

"Sorry, no clue. Slim has a knack for vanishing when he doesn't want to be found."

"Have you tried his dorm room?" Hank asked in a very patronizing 'were you smart enough to check the obvious' tone. She got really tired of men seeing a pretty face and automatically thinking 'bimbo.' Jean decided right then that Hank McCoy was going to end up taking another flight around a room someday very soon. When it did happen, she would make sure he tossed his cookies.

"Ah... well, Miss Grey... Marvel Girl... " Bobby stumbled over the names, probably sensing that Hank was about to take a flight. "I'm not really sure where Slim went. You could try the library or the Danger Room control booth."

"Thank you," she replied frigidly as she turned on her heel and marched out of the room. In fact, she found Slim the very last place she looked for him and by that time, her temper was at a low boil. He was down in the basement, sitting Indian style on a dryer, reading a book; for some odd reason that really annoyed her. They started out so well in the Danger Room earlier that afternoon before they left for that mission. She should have known the cute one would be a complete jerk. Wasn't that always her luck?

She marched down to where he was sitting and snarled, "You fought the professor about me going on that mission today." He looked up from his book inspecting her like one might study a particularly annoying insect. That only managed to annoy her more.

"Yes, I did. You had no business going on that mission and I told the professor that." Scott looked down at his watch, "Since I'm sure you're here to argue otherwise and try to change my mind, you have five minutes to waste your time and mine."

" _Oh yes_ ," Jean thought bitterly. Jerk-with-a-capital-J would definitely describe him. She set her jaw and planted her hands on her hips.

"You told the professor that you doubted I was competent enough to be brought into the field, yet I handled myself quite well this afternoon, Cyclops, and you can't deny it." For some odd reason, part of Jean was actually hurt that he thought about her in that way.

"You objected because I'm a girl, didn't you?" He looked at her with a completely unreadable expression. Jean couldn't see his eyes to get even a hint on what he was thinking and she decided, at that instant, she was going to hate those glasses.

"I can tell already that this conversation is going to bore me long before your five minutes are up. For the record, Marvel Girl, you did handle yourself remarkably well in the field this afternoon. But even knowing what I do now, I would still have objected to the professor including you on that mission."

"You're avoiding answering my question," she stated coldly. His eyebrow went up towards his hair line and he responded just as coldly back.

"Is there actually a reasonable woman under that raging, man-hating exterior and mountain-sized chip on your shoulder? If there isn't one, you and I are going to have issues."

"Is there a reasonable human being under your prick exterior, because if there isn't one, you and I are going to have issues," she fired back. "Now answer the damned question." He closed his book and looked at her with that unreadable glaze again.

"Do you always assume that men take one look at you and assume 'bimbo,' Miss Grey?" Taken aback, Jean blinked. Slim didn't hash words or beat around the bush.

"That's been a majority of my past experience with men. They see a pretty face and a decent figure, and tend to forget there's a person there too. You're still avoiding my question." He looked at her amused as his eyebrow climbed a little higher toward his hair line.

"Have you ever read Sun Tzu, Marvel Girl?" he suddenly asked.

"What does that have to do with you answering my question?" she demanded exasperated.

"Answer mine and I'll answer yours," he responded calmly.

"No," Jean spat, her exasperation getting the better of her, wondering what this had to do with her original question.

"I figured." He replied in a mater-of-fact tone. "Sun Tzu wrote 'Know the enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles you will never be in peril.' It was my job as field commander of this team to object. You shouldn't have been brought on that mission. You had no time to familiarize yourself with this team, and we had no time to familiarize ourselves with you. On the battlefield, you were a completely unknown element to everyone, and that could have cost this team badly. The professor took a huge risk including you on that mission, so it was my job as field commander to object. So no, my objections had nothing to do with the fact you're a girl." He studied her for a moment.

"I think the question I should be throwing out to you right now is: can you work with an all-male team? I guarantee it's not going to be easy being the only girl among four guys. You always thinking the worst of us will make working with you very difficult." Jean was quiet for a while absorbing that.

"I guess I could try to leave my man-hating chip at the door, Cyclops." He gave her an amused look.

"If you do, I'll try to beat the crap out of you at practice like I do to everyone else, Marvel Girl," he added, as a compromise. "You still can pull that mountain-sized chip on your shoulder out when we deserve it, and trust me, there will be times when this crew is going to deserve it. Probably take something about the density of a mountain to dent the thick heads around here." She found herself smirking back.

"It sounds like a deal to me, Slim."

"Good," he announced as he jumped off the dryer. "Your five minutes are up. I have things to do." Half-way up the stairs, he stopped and turned, giving her a very thoughtful look. "You know I really have to suggest to Hank that he should move you up from High Beta to Alpha female for his paper." Jean gave him a baffled look.

"What paper is everyone talking about? And are you implying that meat-head McCoy can actually string a sentence together?" He actually smiled at her and Jean decided right there he really had an adorable smile.

"First impressions can be very deceiving Marvel Girl, especially when the 'meat head' in question is putting together a thesis for his masters-level psyche class on 'Female Responses to Male Aggression,' ranking female responses from Alpha to Gamma."

"What?!" Jean demanded in a tone that was almost a shout.

"Good night, Marvel Girl." Jean could almost swore his eyes were twinkling with amusement behind those glasses. "Or should I call you ‘Test Subject number 143?" With those last words, Slim vanished up the stairs.

"McCoy!" She shouted at the top of her lungs and hoped Beast heard it all the way in the living room. It appears Hank was going to be taking that flight around the room tonight after all.

* * *

"I remember you relented in pity and didn't make Hank toss his cookies," Scott grumbled. That's what snapped her back to the here and now. She felt him shiver a little and pulled him closer.

"Yup, but I made him promise never to use me as a test subject again. From that point on, he started using the big words to intimidate me with everyone else." She gave him a lopsided grin. "I also found out who the evil puppet master was around here that night, and decided I better make him my friend fast. You set Hank up rather nicely." It was Scott's turn to give her a completely coy, innocent look.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." he grumbled. "Besides, the stupid jock impression was wearing on my nerves. And it just didn't seem fair they were using your ignorance against you."

"You know what really bothers me, you scheming devil?" Jean said, rolling her eyes a little. "The fact that there's four of us and only one of you, and you're still winning." Scott gave her an amused look that was edged with exhaustion. Jean realized he was tiring fast.

"Scheming is such a harsh word. I like to think of it as holding in check strong personality influences within a group dynamic."

"I'm sure," Jean replied dryly. "It's also called evil, manipulative string pulling. You know?"

"Really?" Scott replied too innocently. "You should read about Julius Caesar sometime. He was very good at holding strong personalities in check."

"They also killed Caesar rather brutally in the end too," Jean replied, matter of fact, and when Scott didn't answer, she realized his attention was starting to drift again. She pulled him closer in response.

"It's happening again isn't it?" Scott asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Jean whispered quietly. As least he was aware it was happening this time.

"I hate this," he growled out, his frustration bubbling up to the surface. "It's like a switch won't throw in my brain, which then decides to stall."

"Hey — it's okay," Jean whispered in a tone that was meant to comfort as she stroked his hair. "You're just tired. It's about time you got some rest anyway." She felt his conflict then. He was exhausted, barely keeping his eyes open, but he also didn't want to be alone right now either. She also knew he'd be damned if he'd ever admit that fact.

"Besides," she announced, grinning and hoping he didn't notice that it didn't quite make it to her eyes. "I just got my feet warm. You think I'm leaving anytime soon? I'm still sucking the warmth out of you, mister." She reached out with a small tentacle of her telepathy and told him to sleep. He and the professor could be mad as hell at her about misusing her powers later. Right now, Scott desperately needed the rest. She felt him slide into sleep with little resistance. Jean just held him close until she fell asleep too. Sensing a presence was what caused her to open her eyes, finding Hank McCoy grinning down at her.

"Did anyone ever tell you two that you make an adorable scene piled up like puppies?" he announced with amusement Since Slim wasn't awake to do it. Jean flew him the one fingered salute. That made Hank chuckled under his breath.

"We weren't doing anything wrong. He was cold," she replied defensively, sitting up.

"I know," Hank replied. "It's just Christmas-card cute. Every time I find you two, you're snuggled up together." Jean blushed a little.

"Slim would never... I mean we never... "

"I know," Hank said again. "Scott's safe and we all know you need the contact. Your telepathic powers are still emerging, and you use physical contact to help you break down barriers and form bonds." Jean scowled at Hank and wondered where he got that information.

"The professor hasn't gotten to that lesson yet." Hank shrugged looking down at the clip board he was carrying.

"The professor explained it to us in class one day when you first arrived. He didn't want any of us getting the wrong idea and misunderstanding." He gave Scott's sleeping form a thoughtful look. "Besides, it made you safe for Scott or else he would never have let you anywhere near him. Your touchy-feely nature was just another aspect of a mutant power he would have to put up with." He winked at her.

"You know, like me, dangling from the ceilings in my BVDs or Bobby putting a king sized icicle through his bed at one in the morning when he had a night mare. Don't know about you, Red, but Slim taught me a few new swear words that night." Jean found herself grinning back as she untangled herself from Scott and got off the bed.

"I'm still trying to figure out what some of them meant. I remember Scott standing there with his blanket wrapped around him, calmly looking at his bed with this huge icicle through the center of it, then calmly looking back to Bobby, then to his bed again. I still believe that Slim started cursing Bobby a blue streak more to soothe an almost-hysterical Bobby, not so much because Scott was actually mad about what happened."

"Yup," Hank announced quietly, looking down at the sleeping figure in the bed. "Scott certainly proved that four letter words were for armatures." Hank's face turned serious, and Jean had the feeling he was thinking out loud more than actually talking to her anymore.

"The professor's lecture that day made it okay for Scott to take the contact. He needs the physical contact, and you need to give it. Makes sense that the two of you are drawn together."   
Right at that moment Jean wondered exactly how much Hank McCoy knew about Slim that she didn't.

"So how is he?" Hank asked quietly, gesturing towards the sleeping form in the bed.

"He's still 'drifting' Hank. Scott actually compared it to his brain stalling. I think he still has that headache too, and he didn't seem to be able to get warm." Hank nodded and gently put a hand to Scott's forehead.

"He's running a low-grade temperature now."

"Is that good or bad?"

"I'm not sure," Hank responded. "It could mean it _is_ an infection of some sort — a white cell count will tell us for sure." Something caught Hank's eye and he started inspecting Scott's chest carefully, right around the collar of his t-shirt. He turned to her and asked, "How long has he had that rash?" Jean stepped forward to look at what Hank was pointing to a little closer. It was a red blotchy, blistery rash that appeared to run in a straight line until it vanished under his t-shirt.

"I don't know. He didn't have had it before." Jean didn't need telepathy to know what Hank was thinking. This wasn't good.

* * *

"I'm not denying it could in fact be meningitis, Henry," Professor Xavier said calmly. "But not all the symptoms are adding up. His fever and swollen lymph glands could be symptoms of lots of things." Jean was standing in the corner of the lab listening carefully.

"Meningitis doesn't explain the rash breaking out in a straight line," Hank said.

"Exactly," the professor agreed. "I've never seen anything like this before. The rash and how it broke out is baffling me. I think we can eliminate an allergy or his mutant powers excalating as a possible source."

"I think you're right," Hank muttered. "If it was an allergy, the rash would have erupted long before now and wouldn't be so contained. I was right — it is an infection of some form since his temperature is starting to rise."

"His white count is starting to react too," Xavier informed him. "Congratulations, Henry, you were correct. It is indeed some form of infection."

Hank ran a hand through his hair and replied, "Part of me is happy I was right, Sir. That means there might be something we can do to help Scott recover. Another part of me is realizing that if this is some form of infection, it could possibly be opening a huge, new, unique set of problems."

"Indeed," Xavier looked none too pleased himself. "It could be a new infection that Scott's unique mutant biology makes him susceptible too."

"Or," Hank added in finishing the thought, "it could be a common infection and Scott's mutant system is just reacting to completely differently than a normal human being would."

"Exactly," the professor stated dryly. At that moment, Bobby Drake stuck his head into the lab, saw Jean and walked over to where she was standing.

"Hey. Have they figured out what's wrong with Slim yet?" As soon as Bobby had entered, the professor and Hank moved into the far corner to confer quietly. She had a feeling the two of them didn't want Bobby hearing what they were saying to each other, but Jean decided she wasn't going to lie to him.

"No. They still don't really know. Scott's got a rash now, and they're trying to figure out what's causing it."

"Could it be an allergy? Like that one time I ate stuffed eggplant?" Bobby asked, his blue eyes studying her thoughtfully.

"No," Jean sighed. "The professor and Hank have pretty much eliminated that possibility. The rash is breaking out in a straight line on his chest. A food allergy like you had breaks out everywhere."

"Is it chicken pox then?" Bobby asked quite seriously. The question took Jean aback. What would make him ask that? Hank had stopped talking to the professor in mid-sentence, turning to look at Bobby.

"Why would you ask that, Robert?" Bobby looked nervous for a moment, and eyed the door. Jean got the impression he thought he had said something incredibly stupid and was about to get lectured for it.

"Well," he began as the professor and Hank both gave him a very interested look. "My Aunt ended up in the hospital with them. I guess the virus lay dormant in her nervous system and reactivated on her. Chicken pox can lay dormant in the roots of certain sensory nerve cells. When the virus does reactivate, it erupts along the nerve paths at first. I guess it happens very rarely." After that Bobby eyed the door again like he might bolt. Both Hank and the professor were quiet for a few moments. Xavier was first to speak up.

"The symptoms might fit, actually — including the headache he's had for close to two weeks. It would definitely explain the rash." Hank nodded.

"Incubation period. The rash doesn't look like chicken pox though, and chicken pox wouldn't cause seizures either, unless the brain is swelling from an added complication."

"True," Xavier said. "But Scott's nervous system is completely unique. Who knows how the virus reactivating in his nervous system would affect it, much less how it would affect a mutant power that revolves _around_ the nervous system. The other symptoms fit." Bobby blinked back shock.

"You mean I might be right?" Hank gave Bobby a smile.

"Indeed Robert, the Varicella Zoster Virus is definitely a strong possibility."

"The what?" Bobby asked.

"The chicken pox, Bobby. Could you go do me a favor?"

"Sure," Bobby said excitedly.

"Go ask Warren if he's had the chicken pox." With that, Bobby nodded to Hank and trotted out of the lab.

As soon as Bobby walked out of the lab, the smile on Hank's face vanished and he muttered, "Damn." Jean had a feeling that wasn't good.Hank and the professor quickly threw Jean out of the lab after that. She wandered around the mansion for a while, and somehow found herself heading back to Scott's room. It was empty except for the room's sleeping occupant. Scott didn't stir as she quietly moved a chair over to sit by his bedside. Eyeing the IV that the professor had Scott hooked up too now, she wondered if this was a natural sleep or if it was brought on by a drug of some form. Either way she didn't get any reaction as she settled herself in the chair and took his hand.

"Well," she muttered quietly, just to break the awful silence of the room. "The professor and Hank still aren't quite sure what's wrong with you yet, Slim. They were actually kicking around the chicken pox when they threw me out of the lab." She brushed the bangs off his face. Scott always looked years younger when he was sleeping.

"It figures. You would make something as simple as the chicken pox complicated." Scott still didn't stir or give any indication that he heard her. Jean just continued and grasped his hand a little harder.

"You know, Slim, there's only a handful of times by which a person defines their life. You know — those moments you walk into a room, bump into that special someone, and know from that moment, your life will never to be the same again? You know how I realized walking into this school was one of those moments for me? It was that hot August afternoon, remember?"

* * *

It was one of those HOT August dog days. Hot, as in if the devil were standing in front of Jean right now, she was pretty sure he'd be sweating. The damned heat wave had lasted almost two weeks and showed no signs of breaking. To make matters worse, the main air-conditioning unit of the school had decided to break down and it would take another week — at least — to get the part to fix it. The only one in the whole house who had air conditioning in his room was the professor, and he needed it for health reasons. The rest of them were sweating it out and praying for this awful heat to break.

Jean hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. It was too hot to go outside. It was too hot to cook anything that actually tasted good. She was cranky, and someone had broken her night-light and not bothered to tell her. In other words, Jean was in the mood to kill someone, and after being cooped up with them for the last week driving her crazy, her teammates were looking like really good first victims. As she marched down the hallway of the boys' dorm holding her broken night-light, she heard Warren yelling in his and Hank's dorm room.

"Listen to me, Ape Man, I don't have to put up with this. I want the lab equipment moved from my side of the room!"

"I'll move the equipment when you give me some room in OUR closet!" Hank growled back. "And my lab equipment doesn't take up as much room as that damned exercise equipment of yours!" Apparently, Jean thought with bitter amusement, she wasn't the only one in the mood to fight.

"My exercise equipment doesn't blow up mold slime all over OUR room!"

"No, it only takes up three-quarters of OUR room. Not to mention your feathers fall all over the floor and I end up with them poking into my feet."

"Well King Kong, maybe you should actually _wear_ shoes instead of kicking them all over the floor where I can trip over them!"

"'King Kong,'" she heard Hank sneer through the door. "How very original. And your sneaking in after curfew gets old really fast, Feather Head."

"Well, I could have said you were related to a monkey's uncle," Warren sneered back. "But I would be insulting the monkeys."

"Don't ever use anti-bacteria soap, Warren," Hank shot right back. "It'll destroy the only culture you'll ever possess."

"That does it!" Warren announced. "I either want my own room or a new roommate! I can't take you or your mold-slime-throwing experiments anymore! I don't care WHAT I have to do to get it, or how much more it will cost me in tuition."

"The feeling is mutual!" Hank shouted back. "I can't take you and your ego anymore; there just isn't enough room in this dorm for all three of us!"

"Fine!" Warren shouted back.

"Fine!" Hank responded. Suddenly the door was thrown open and both of them got stuck in the doorway trying to get out at once. They turned to glare at each other.

Jean held up her night-light and demanded, "Who was the one to break this, and what the hell was he doing on the girls' side of the dorm?"

"Marvel Girl," Hank addressed her coolly, glaring at Warren. "This isn't the time. Perhaps if you came back later?"

"You two _will_ make time for me," Jean growled. "Now, who broke my night-light?" Both Hank and Warren turned from glaring at each other to glare at her.

"This isn't the time," they both said at the same time. Jean glared back.

"I don't care if one of Hank's experiments ended out the window, and half Warren's stuff is now floating in the pool. You two are going to tell me who broke my night-light."

They both turned to glare at each other again, and replied to each other, "Too late."

"Who broke my night-light?" Jean demanded again. Warren threw his hands up in the air.

"How the hell should I know? Aren't you a little old to be sleeping with one anyway?"

"Indeed," Hank growled. "Are you still worried about the monster under the bed? If you haven't noticed, we're a little _busy_."

"Oh!" Jean snarled, exasperated. "That does it! I'm going to talk to Slim. You know — a _mature_ male. And if I find out either of you two jokers are responsible for this..." She paused to hold up the night-light. "... there will be hell to pay."

"Fine!" Hank growled.

"Fine!" Warren snarled.

"Fine!" Jean yelled at them both as she marched down the hall straight towards Slim's dorm room, with Hank and Warren following her. They found Slim in his bathroom, cleaning his shower. He gave the three of them an exasperated expression as they barged in.

"What is it?" He held up the shower cleaner. "If you haven't noticed, some mildew has a date with destiny."

"We need to talk," Jean announced, holding up her night-light.

"I want a new roommate," both Hank and Warren said at once.

"Someone broke my night-light," Jean added.

"Look," Slim said dryly, pretending to read the label on his shower cleaner. "It says use only in well ventilated areas." He rost to shut the window. "I guess that means you'd better leave."

"He is impossible to live with," Hank announced pointing at Warren.

"And I've had it up to here..." said Warren, making a gesture over his head. "...with his mold-throwing experiments." Scott glared at all three of them and opened the window again.

"If you haven't noticed, you three are standing in the middle of MY bathroom, arguing. Can't a man get a little privacy when he's committing the mass murder of mildew?" Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses. "And as the mildew and I can't transcend our problems, it must die a horrible, slow death. But, as the three of you claim to be mature young adults who can transcend problems, unlike me, why don't you three show me how to transcend problems without resorting to industrial-strength cleaners?" Slim eyed a spot on the wall of the shower and started scrubbing it.

Warren rolled his eyes and replied, "Is the mildew in your shower the only thing you can think about?"

"Well," Scott threw back, "I don't want to be embarrassed if a bad guy decides to jump me on the can, do I?"

"Heaven forbid," Hank grumbled, "that our problems interrupt your compulsive behavior."

"Say it with me, Hank," Scott told him in a gleefully patronizing tone. " _I will not blow up the basement. I will not blow up the basement. I will not blow up the basement._ " Scott eyed a spot on the shower. "Crap, I missed a spot." Hank glared at Scott.

"We are trying to address a legitimate concern." Scott glared right back.

"No, you're not. You're trying to pull me into the middle of a stupid argument. Next?"

Warren set his jaw and replied, "It's nice to know our problems are not important, Slim." Scott turned his glare on him next.

"The heat making Bobby sick, and the professor not being able to leave his bedroom because he has bad circulation to the lower part of his body and can't cope with the heat — those are legitimate concerns I need to deal with." Something caught his eye on the roof of the shower, making him snarling. "That, and the mildew on the roof of my shower that must die." He returned his attention to Warren, and took off his rubber gloves. "This is a stupid argument that the heat has blown all out of portion."

"What about Jean and her night-light?" Hank sneered bitterly. Jean turned to glare at Hank.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're a jerk, Hank? Did it ever occur to you that the girls' side of the dorms can get really dark?"

"Scared?" Hank asked with a mocking tone.

"Enough!" Scott roared. "This is heading right into the realm of stupid argument. Christ, you three should listen to yourselves."

"What about my night-light?" Jean asked softly, realizing he was completely right. Scott sighed. He glared right at Hank and Warren.

"You two are taking Bobby and Jean to the mall, and treating them to a nice meal at an air-conditioned restaurant. AND," Slim said the next words in his no-argument tone. "Then the three of you are taking Bobby out to see a late movie — anything he wants to see." Hank groaned.

"You're sentencing us to the 'Rocky Horror Picture Show' yet again? It was only nice the first twenty times or so."

"Am I?" Scott asked sweetly. Then his face took on a malicious look. "Let's say the heat isn't just making you three pissy. When you hear 'Time warp' in your dreams tonight, think of me. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the mildew in my shower." Jean turned to follow Hank and Warren out when she heard Scott throw out quietly, "Leave the night-light, Jean. I'll see what I can do with it."

The four of them didn't get back until late. Scott had elected to stay home in case the professor needed him, and to address some very personal "issues" with the mildew in his shower. Spending the day in the mall and getting a decent meal down her had improved Jean's mood quite a bit. Hank's and Warren's too. About fifteen minutes surrounded by air conditioning and Hank had been his usualm cheerful, easy-going self again. It was a shame that Slim had decided not to come with them. They had a good time watching Bobby sing and dance in the isles. They'd pretty much had the movie theater to themselves, so there had been no one to complain when they started making fools of themselves. It had been fun. And since Slim tended to show up in her dreams regularly anyway, in various states of undress, Jean wouldn't even going to mind hearing 'The Time Warp' in her dreams tonight, and thinking of him. When she finally made it up to her room, her lamp was on and she found a note on her pillow from Scott:

  
_Red,  
There was nothing I could do for the night-light. Hopefully what I did will help.  
Just remember when you turn the lights off. When you dwell on the darkness long enough, you tend to forget looking for the light.  
Scott _   


When she turned off her lamp, she caught her breath. Her ceiling was now a night sky. She would never have to fall asleep dreading the dark again. She'd have a night sky of stars. Rising, she headed out, and found him lying on the dock looking up at the star-filled sky, his feet splashing and dangling over the edge, singing something softly. Jean actually did a double-take to realize Scott wasn't wearing a shirt, just a pair of cut-off jean shorts. She stood on the edge of the dock and watched him. With the moonlight bouncing off of him, she was reminded of all the fairly tales gtom her childhood of elves coming out to play in the moonlight. Breaking the spell, she called out from the edge of the dock.

"So did you solve your personal issues with the mildew?" She had to choke down a laugh as Scott jumped in surprise and almost fell off the dock into the water. He sat up to glare. In the dark, his eyes glowed softly behind the glasses.

"If you tell anyone you saw me doing this, I'll deny it." She walked out onto the dock to grin down at him.

"What? Having a good time or relaxing?" He glared at her again.

"Both. As for solving my issues, it required industrial-strength mildew killer." Jean shuffled her feet nervously.

"Thanks, for what you did up in my room." He just shrugged covering his embarrassment by bowing his head to study his feet.

"The glow-in-the-dark decals were on sale. No big deal." She looked at him very seriously for a moment.

"You figured out that I'm scared of the dark, didn't you? That's why you shut up Hank so quick this afternoon." Scott shrugged.

"We all have our ways to get through the night. Bobby has Mr. Whiskers — this ratty old stuffed lion his mom made — under his bed. Hank has his favorite football jersey his mother sewed for him, and Warren listens to the soft ticking of the clock his grandfather gave him. We see the darkness almost everyday. We all have our own methods of coping with it. Yours is sleeping with a night-light. There's nothing wrong with that." Jean grinned at him.

"Let me guess — yours is cleaning your shower?"

"No," He replied dryly. "I started cleaning my shower on insistence from my therapist that I should find something productive to do when I feel the urge to micromanage and control every aspect of my life and relationships." He gave her a smirk. "You could say my shower-cleaning is coping with my coping method." Jean looked down at him, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Is it working?" He gave her a thoughtful look for a moment.

"I don't know. I've had to re-grout my shower three times." Then Scott crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a sulky look. "I don't know what people's problems are sometimes. I think my knack to micromanage, over-react, and lose all perspective about the smallest details of my life makes me a theoretically interesting person." She chucked under her breath as she sat down on the dock next to him, removing her shoes to stick her feet in the water right next to him.

"Seriously, what you did up in my room was very sweet." She made a point of trying to meet his eyes through his glasses. "Thank you." Maybe it was the moonlight, but he didn't look away and tried to meet her eyes back.

"You're very welcome, Red." The next thing Jean knew, their eyes had locked and their lips met gently, and all Jean could feel where their lips met was fire and sparks. All other sensations were drowned out. She didn't know how long they sat there with their lips just touching gently. Time seemed to stop. Scott somehow came to his senses first and bolted to his feet.

He wore an almost panicked look and stammered, "I have to go. You're welcome about the stars." Then he bolted down the dock.

" _Ill-met by moon light_ ," was all Jean could think sourly as she watched his retreating form beat a hasty retreat towards the house.

* * *

"Of course you made a complete ass of yourself the next morning by calling that kiss a 'chemical imbalance' brought on by you inhaling too many fumes. When you didn't want to talk about it and I did, I ended up losing my temper." Jean looked down at the sleeping figure on the bed.

"I still owe twelve hours of detention for losing my temper and cursing you a blue streak in front of the professor. You know what makes me really mad, you stubborn jerk? I was only using the words you taught me that night Bobby put the icicle through your bed — except I was unlucky enough to have the professor walk in during the middle of it." Jean gave the figure down on the bed a smug look.

"You should have seen the shock on the professor's face when he realized I knew that type of language."

"And you should have seen the lecture Scott got for teaching that language to you." Hank McCoy's voice informed her from doorway, causing Jean to jump.

A little embarrassed, she turned to face him, asking quietly. "How long have you been there?"

"Not too long, just heard the very end of what you were saying," Hank replied, leaning against the doorway. "And you're right. the professor's expression was priceless." He smirked at her.

"I don't know what was more funny — the look of shock on the professor's face, you standing there blistering everyone's ears, or Scott just sitting there with a stupid smirk on his face and urging you on."

"How is he really?" Jean asked, motioning her head towards Scott.

"I actually think the worst of it was over when the rash appeared." Hank chuckled softly. "Although on Scott, they resemble ugly red blotches more than the blisters we commonly recognize as the chicken pox." Jean gave him an interested look.

"So Bobby was right? It is the chicken pox?"

"Indeed," Hank replied. "As the virus reactivated, it was 'gumming up' his mutant powers, throwing off his whole nervous system chemically. The professor managed to figure out what enzyme the virus was preventing him from making enough of as it reactivated." Hank motioned his head to the IV. "That's why we hooked him up to that. He'll be connected to it for the next two weeks."

"He'll love that." Jean grinned at the thought of what Scott was going to say about being hooked up to an IV for two weeks.

"You mean no more seizures?" Hank grinned back.

"No more seizures. In about twenty-four hours, we should have our normal, sarcastic grouch back — barring any secondary complications, of course."

"I guess I better go pull out the calamine lotion then," Jean announced happily.

"That, my dear..." Hank said, grinning ear to ear this time. "... would be an excellent idea. Bed rest, Tylenol, and lots of calamine lotion are what the doctors are now recommending." Hank winked at her. "Scott's no doubt going to be cranky, itchy and irritable tomorrow — and you will probably be the only one of us who he'll be able to stand for long periods of time. Go get some rest, Red."

* * *

"Oh my God," Jean groaned with the shocked horror that most people reserved only for train wrecks and other disasters. "That's so gross." Bobby Drake responded to that statement by quickly unwrapping another Twinkie and stuffing it in his mouth. Warren shook his head in shock.

"That's thirty-two."

"Where does he put them?" Scott asked Warren. "Bobby isn't that big. He's got to have a hollow head or something"

"Give up, Hank," Bobby announced to his challenger. "You won't win."

In response to that, a slightly green looking Hank gave Bobby an amazed look and announced, "I concede. I couldn't eat another Twinkie if I tried."

"So he never challenges my record again," Bobby announced... and took another Twinkie out of the box, unwrapping and eating it. All the while, Scott, Jean and Warren watched, groaning in sick horror.

From where he sat on the edge of Scott's bed, Warren announced, "I pronounce Bobby the school's Twinkie eating champ."

"Bobby's going to walk into the hall way and blow up or something," Scott announced. "Doesn't sponge cake expand inside of you?"

"I'm not cleaning it up if Bobby does," Jean chirped.

"I think I'm going to die," Hank groaned as he plunked himself on the bed right next to Scott.

"Well," Scott said, "you did eat twenty-eight Twinkies."

"Please don't remind me," Hank moaned.

"Scott," Jean admonished playfully as she caught him trying to itch again. "Stop trying to itch your blotches." Scott gave her a dirty look in response.

"All right, everyone," Hank announced, getting up slowly and rubbing his stomach. "Visiting time is over. The professor is going to be coming in to examine Scott in about five minutes."

"Come on Warren," Bobby announced gleefully, getting up. "Let's escort the loser to his room." Warren rose from the edge of the bed without saying a word and gave Hank a hand down off the bed.

"Can it, Drake," Hank muttered, making his way slowly towards the door. "I'll beat you next time."

"Sure you will," Bobby said gleefully. Warren followed the two of them out, rolling his eyes behind their backs and shaking his head. With the three of them gone, Jean turned to Scott and grinned evilly.

Scott gave her a very suspicious look back and demanded, "What are you up to, Jean? I know that look."

"Nothing actually," Jean responded as she walked over to the other bed and pulled something out from under the pillow. "I got you a get-well present." She could tell he was blinking at her in surprise.

"You did?" he asked.

"Yup," Jean announced, handing him the package. Scott opened it and inside was a watch with plane on it. He gave her a lopsided grin as he inspected the plane.

"It's the L-39 Jet. Its nickname is 'The Albatross.'" Jean grinned at him.

"You can wear it and think of me."

"Now I can carry my Albatross everywhere I go?" he asked, amused.

"Exactly." She kissed him chastely on the check. "Now, if the professor comes in and asks if we were in here keeping you from resting after he ordered us out, lie. I have to go." Jean rose to leave.

"Umm, Red?" She turned to look at him from the door. He ran a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.

"Thanks. I really like the watch." She winked at him as she walked out.

"I'm glad you like it. Now get some rest and get better soon." When the door closed, she leaned her back against it in relief. He liked the watch. Scott never did see the silly grin that never left her face for the rest of the day.


	12. Can't Fight This Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bobby's birthday, Scott and Jean finally find their way to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't technically part of the series, but it did make a kind of coda.

"I'm not going," Scott Summers announced bluntly to the man standing in his doorway.

"Oh, yes you are," Hank replied. "Even if I have to put you in a head lock and drag you down to Harry's myself. It's a little hard to have a surprise party without one of the ones who planned it not showing up."

"I didn't plan the party," Scott growled. "You did. I only picked stuff up for it. It won't matter if I'm there or not. I have too much to do around here."

"Bobby will be devastated if you aren't there," Hank said softly. "Besides you need to get out of this house. Ever since Jean's parents sent her to another school all you do sit around this place and mope."

"I don't mope."

"Oh, yes you do," Hank informed him, amused. "And do it very well, I might add. Why don't you come out and tell her how you feel?"

"Jean and I are just friends," Scott whispered.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be more." Scott glared in Hank's direction.

"There is. if I screw it up and it blows this team apart. There's a lot more to consider than how I feel. Besides," he added in a sad tone, "Jean has stated over and over again she's not interesting in a serious relationship. So it's better for us to stay friends." Hank rolled his eyes.

"Fine. As usual you make a very strong logical argument. You should still try shooting from your hip more often, Scott; most of the time it results in your finest moments." Scott didn't bother to look at Hank. He was studying a picture of Jean and himself on his dresser.

"I'll keep that in mind. What if she doesn't feel the same way?"

"It's called a risk," Hank told him quietly. "As our field commander, I'm sure you're quite familiar with the concept."

"I don't know why you want me there, anyway. Most likely everyone will have a much better time without me. I'll manage to piss off the waitress in the first five minutes, and we'll get lousy service all night."

"We were discussing the concept of risk, correct? You pissing the waitress off is a risk we take bringing you anywhere, Scott," Hank informed him.

"Warren's bringing Candy, so you know Candy and I will be sniping at each other all night. That woman annoys me."

"Couldn't tell," Hank said dryly. "You hid it so well when you asked her how she feels about promoting a superficial, anorexic culture to young women all over the world."

"The last time we went out, Candy sat there and counted every calorie going into her mouth. I hate it when a woman does that, it drives me crazy."

"Agreed, Candy is very annoying," Hank said, nodding. "But Warren's head over heels for her. And Candy is crazy about him too."

"That's her only saving grace."

"Oh, I'm agreeing with you. But because Warren loves her, we have to put up with her," Hank said, an evil expression slowly spreading across his face. "If it makes you feel any better, I told her a small fib, and said that tonight we would be serving only low-fat food. I also lied and told her that the cake was no-sugar, and the icing was fat-free." At that, Scott broke into a huge grin.

"You're evil. Warren's going to end up killing us. We aren't serving anything fat-free are we?" Hank shot him a completely horrified glance.

"We're serving this food to Bobby. I think if Bobby put anything 'fat-free' in his mouth, his body would go in to a horrible state of shock, shut down, and he'd die right there on the spot."

"Yup, Warren is going to be hunting us down to kill us after tonight." Mischief lit up Hank's face.

"Think of all the evil glee we'll have watching her stuff all those calories down in our last hours."

"You really are trying to give me incentives to go tonight, aren't you?"

"Yup," Hank said with a smirk.

"If Jean brings a date, I won't even pretend to like him, and Jean and I will be in a huge fight by the end of the evening."

"Don't worry, I penciled in you and Jean for tonight's entertainment. I have the popcorn packed in the car."

"I'll spend the entire night talking to the plant in the corner."

"Stop finding excuses and be ready to go in an hour."

* * *

Jean Grey studied the framed picture she was holding. She'd managed to capture one of Scott's rare unguarded smiles in the photograph. No one else had ever seen this particular picture of Scott. She'd made sure of that. This was _her_ picture, and it made her heart skip a beat every time she saw it. Scott had been sending that smile to her and only her that afternoon in the park. That's the reason no other human being would ever see this picture. This was her Scott and no one else's.

He was her best friend, but the problem was... she wanted him to be more. She'd wanted more for a very long time. It didn't help her dilemma that the tall, skinny boy she'd known had finally filled out to become an incredibly handsome man. Scott had been a late bloomer, so the outside was finally catching up with the inside. He had a depth that most guys his age didn't, and other women were starting to notice. Scott didn't know his own appeal, and that made him an even better catch in some women's minds.

Jealously was a completely new emotion for her and it wasn't bringing out the best in her, either. Most times, guys fought over her, not the other way around. It was almost getting ridiculous. Every time another woman even looked at Scott, Jean's first instinct was either to lock him up in a tower and dig a moat, or commit assault. Looking at it logically, the moat was still cheaper than the lawyer would be.

It was only a matter of time before another woman managed to breach the rather formidable walls that Scott kept around his heart, and when that happened, he'd willingly hand over his heart and soul to that woman. Jean knew it. He never did anything by half measure — never had, and never would.

And so if Scott ever shot another woman that same smile he'd given her in the photograph, Jean knew she'd mostly likely kill her — the cost of a good lawyer be damned!

She wanted Scott's heart, and to be part of his soul. She also wanted to tie him to a bed, cover him in chocolate pudding, and not let him out for a week. Jean clutched the picture to her chest and fell backward onto her bed, all the while thinking that she shouldn't be having thoughts like that about her best friend.

* * *

"This was great!" Bobby announced to those that had assembled for his birthday. "You guys are great. This was the best birthday ever."

"You're welcome," Jean said, bestowing a wide smile on Bobby.

"Indeed," Candy put in, not to be outdone. "I had a great time. I'm honored that you invited me to join you for this special occasion."

"We're happy to have you here Candy," Hank said insincerely. "Every time we get to talking, I always feel shallow and insecure, and want to go out  
and get a bigger watt light bulb for my bathroom."

"So you can better obsess about your physical flaws?" Bobby asked innocently.

"Exactly my young friend, that's what the fashion industry is telling us to do," Hank added gleefully.

"That and buy at least one product a day that they test on cute little baby bunnies," Scott chipped in.

"Yes, indeed," Hank said, smiling as Warren sent them all a warning glare from where he was sitting.

Jean fought very hard to keep from rolling her eyes. Candy might love Warren to distraction, but the woman annoyed Jean to no end. Jean shot Candy her most charming smile, and knew Candy saw through it. "You're very welcome, Candy," she said. "We're all happy to have you with us." Then Jean had to fight the urge to laugh out loud when Scott snorted a little too loudly and faked that his water had gone down the wrong way. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one annoyed by Warren's girlfriend.

Candy shot Scott a quick glare, then smiled insincerely in Jean's direction. "If you will all excuse me for a few minutes, I need to freshen up in the rest room." Jean could swear that Scott was rolling his eyes behind his glasses.

Warren gave Candy the most sincere smile Jean had ever seen on his face, rose, and said, "Let me escort you." She took his arm and they both left the table together.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "She's so annoying."

The direction of Scott's gaze followed Warren and Candy as they proceeded towards the parking lot, not the restrooms. "They're heading out so they can neck for a while."

"That's so gross," Bobby grumbled, grabbing another slice of cake. "I'm going to need another slice to get those images out of my mind."

"What's even worse," Hank added, grabbing another slice for himself, "is that I think this one will last. Like it or not, it appears that Candy is going to be around for a while."

"Well," Jean sighed. "She loves Warren. That means we only have to tolerate her and she only has to tolerate us."

"They're still sickening together," Bobby muttered.

"I can't help but wonder," Scott mused, and this time Jean could tell he was indeed rolling his eyes behind his glasses, "If she originally came in a pink, plastic container."

Jean's hot coffee came shooting out her nose as she choked down a laugh at that comment. "You're evil Scott," she said. Scott only smirked in response.

  
_"I can't fight this feeling any longer.  
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow.  
What started out as friendship has grown stronger.  
I only wish I had the strength to let it show.  
  
I tell myself that I can't hold out for forever.  
I said there's no reason for my fear.  
Cause I feel so secure when we're together.  
You give my life direction,  
You make everything so clear." _   


"I love this song!" Jean announced, jumping up from the table. "Anyone care to dance?" Bobby and Hank both shook their heads in the negative, and Jean turned to Scott — he was the one she really wanted to dance with, anyway.

"Please?" Scott got up reluctantly from the table.

"I always knew you were a pop-rock wussy," he said as Jean grabbed his arm to lead him onto the dance floor.

  
_"And even as I wander,  
I'm keeping you in sight.  
You're a candle in the window,  
On a cold, dark, winter's night.  
And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might.  
  
And I can't fight this feeling anymore.  
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.  
It's time to bring this ship into the shore,  
And throw away the oars, forever." _   


"So," Jean asked as she molded her body to Scott's for a slow dance. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Scott muttered in reply.

"You never call or come to visit."

"You're not home a lot, and you have my number too."

  
_"Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore.  
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.  
And if I had to crawl upon the floor,  
Come crashing through your door,  
Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore." _   


* * *

Bobby Drake sat and watched Scott and Jean on the dance floor. Turning to Hank, he asked, "You think they're going to get it right this time?"

"I hope so," Hank said frankly. "I don't feel like spending another evening in the emergency room. The last time, they vented their frustrations on the hand-to-hand mat, and I ended up driving them both to the emergency room to get patched up so the Professor wouldn't find out about it."

"If this doesn't work, my freezer idea is still a possibility."

"Agreed," Hank muttered. "If this doesn't work, we lock them up together in a place they can't get out of, leave them there a while, and let nature take its course."  


* * *

 _"My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you._ _I've been running around in circles in my mind._ _And it always seems I'm following you, girl,_ _Cause you take me to places,_ _That I'd know I'd never find."_

"So," Scott asked quietly. "How's Devlin, that guy you've been dating?"

"We were never serious Scott," Jean said, amused. "We went out a couple of times together."

"So you're not dating anyone right now?" he asked cautiously. "Or have I just not been introduced to him yet?"

  
_"And even as I wander,  
I'm keeping you in sight.  
You're a candle in the window,  
On a cold, dark, winter's night.  
And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might." _   


Jean leaned in a little closer to him and sighed. "I haven't had a lot of luck with dating and men. Maybe I should give up and date you exclusively."

  
_And I can't fight this feeling anymore.  
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.  
It's time to bring this ship into the shore,  
And throw away the oars, forever." _   


Scott stiffened suddenly at that comment.

"Don't," he choked out.

"Don't what?" Jean demanded, looking up to meet his eyes as they stopped dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

"Don't tease me like that."

Jean looked him straight in the eye. "Who said I was kidding?"

  
_"Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore.  
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.  
And if I had to crawl upon the floor,  
Come crashing through your door,  
Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore." _   


"I won't be your fall-back guy. I won't be the guy you date until the right guy comes around," Scott warned bluntly, looking down into her eyes. "The way I feel about you, I can't be." Leaving those words hanging in the air, he let her go and stalked off the dance floor.

"Damn it Scott!" Jean growled. "Get back here!"  


* * *

"Looks like we will be spending another night in the emergency room," Hank groaned aloud as he watched Scott beat a hasty retreat out of Harry's.

"Yup," Bobby griped. "Looks like we'll have to go with my freezer idea." Hank sighed aloud, a miserable expression on his face.

"I was hoping to avoid that. It's going to take quite a bit of work to rig it so they can't escape out of it."

"Yup," Bobby agreed. Jean stalked over to their table.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

"He wished Bobby a happy birthday, grabbed his coat, and left," Hank informed her calmly. "Said he was going to walk home."

"I'm going after him," Jean announced as she grabbed her own coat and stalked off in the same direction that Scott had gone.

"Is her going after him a good or a bad thing?" Bobby asked quietly.

"I don't know. It's looking like this situation could be salvaged."

"What should we do?"

"We could always go bother Warren and Candy in the parking lot?" Hank suggested, an evil gleam in his eye. Bobby grinned maliciously.

"Oh! This is going to be the best birthday ever."

* * *

"Damn it, Scott, slow down!" Jean shouted as she caught sight of him walking through the park. "I won't be ignored, Summers! You'd better slow down so we can talk. Damn you and your long legs!" Scott stiffened for a moment, stopped, turned, and glared at her.

"What do you want?" Jean quickly caught up to him and put her hands on her hips.

"What do I want? You have the nerve to ask that question after you left me hanging in the middle of the dance floor like that?"

"I did not leave you hanging. I told it like it is. There's a huge difference."

"Don't even try to worm your way out of this! Now finish what you were going to say on that damned dance floor!"

"Why?!" Scott demanded. "It doesn't matter anyway."

"Because I need to hear it, you ass, that's why!"

"Fine!" Scott shouted at her, "I care for you too much to be just your friend any more! Every time I see you out with another guy, it rips my heart out! I've loved you from the moment I set eyes on you! I won't play this game anymore."

"Scott."

"Don't," he snarled and turned to stalk off again.

"You stubborn jerk! Don't you dare run away from me after saying that!" Jean shouted. "I love you, too! I've loved _you_ from the moment you helped me carry my suitcase up the stairs to my room, my first day at school." He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face her.

"What?"

"You heard me, you stupid jerk. I love you. I'm not repeating it."

* * *

"Hi, Warren," Bobby said gleefully as he jumped in to the back of Warren's Jaguar convertible, causing Warren and Candy to quickly pull away from each other. Warren glared at him.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Bobby pretended to think about it for a moment.

"No."

"Indeed," Hank chipped in as he jumped into the other side of the back seat. "Scott and Jean got into a fight and left, so we came out to see what you two were up to." Hank offered Warren a look of complete innocence.

"We don't want Candy feeling left out of the festivities." Candy forced herself to smile at them.

"Why don't you go follow Scott and Jean to see if you can help them patch things up?"

Hank and Bobby both considered that for a moment before they both replied, "Nah!" Candy set her jaw.

"You might have to pull her off of him again."

"You're right, I might," Hank acknowledged. "But if Scott manages to piss her off too badly, he's on his own. The last time I tried to pull them apart, Jean got in a good kick. That woman is mean." Bobby smirked at Hank.

"I remember that. I think everyone flinched when she landed that kick."

"You never have to worry about that happening with two men fighting," Hank groused. "We have certain rules of engagement, and kicking below the belt is against the rules."

"She apologized profusely for kicking you," Bobby reminded his friend. "And she bought you a malt later, to make up for it."

"I still despair of having children."

"See," Warren growled as he turned around to glare at them, his jaw twitching. "That's why you should go check to make sure Scott and Jean have patched things up."

"If Jean leaves him bleeding in a ditch," Bobby grumbled, "she'll start to feel guilty about it, call us, and tell us where we can find him. We're covered." Hank looked innocently at Warren.

"If I didn't know any better Warren, I'd swear you are trying to get rid of us."

* * *

Scott silently studied his feet for a while, and then suddenly blurted out, "What do we do now?" Jean stared at him for a moment. That was a very good question.

"Don't you know?" she said mischievously, a smirk appearing on her face. "Are you telling me there's a subject that Slim Summer's doesn't know about?" He gave her a quick, dirty look before shaking his head negatively.

"The movies always close the curtain at this point, or cut directly to them dancing in the sheets together. They never quite cover this part. As for the Professor, he wasn't a huge well of information on the topic. I was hoping you'd know." Then he started blushing as red as his glasses. "I've never really done this before. I avoided the whole dating thing. My mutant powers came on too early, and I was always afraid my glasses or goggles might slip..." Jean's smirk got a little wider.

"Well, if you're going by the movies, you'd better come over here and kiss me." He licked his lips nervously for a moment.

"I don't think that's a really good idea."

"Why not?" She was taken aback.

"Because if I start kissing you, I don't think I'll be able to stop. I don't think I'll ever want to stop. You're my best friend. What happens if I screw this up?" Jean stalked right up to him, so she could look him in the eye.

"You know what your problem is, Scott?" she said, pointing at his head. "You think too much. You should listen to your heart more often. Listen and tell me what it's telling you, right at this moment?"

"That I'm going to be very bad at this."

"You're listening to your head again," Jean chastised. "Besides, you've kissed me before, and you were pretty good at it." That drew a snort from Scott.

"I was sick with the flu, running a hundred-and-four fever, drunk on NyQuil, and chasing a hallucination of Cheer Bear around the mansion to stab him through with a toilet brush. I don't think that counts."

"Just shut up and kiss me, Summers. For once, I'm giving the orders around here." Obediently, he leaned down until his lips met hers.

* * *

"You know, Warren, maybe I should leave, and you can catch up with me later," Candy said sweetly.

"Candy... " Warren started, "that's not really necessary. Hank and Bobby were planning on leaving."

"We were?" Bobby asked innocently.

"There's no hurry really, Candy," Hank said amiably. "I love it when you come around. I learn so much from you, mainly how to let my Narcissus Complex guide me effortlessly through any given day."

"What about how to verbally support others while mentally judging them?" Bobby chirped.

"That, too," Hank returned gleefully. Candy glared coldly at them both, and then turned to face Warren.

"I think it's better if I get going. I have to be up early for a shoot tomorrow. I'll call a cab to pick me up." She kissed Warren on the cheek, while Bobby and Hank made gagging sounds from the back seat.

"I'll call you tomorrow," she said, and with that, got out of the car and headed back into Harry's. Warren turned to glare at them.

"I hope you both realize that you're going to die. And, for good measure, I might just kill Scott for leaving the two of you alone, unsupervised." Hank rolled his eyes.

"One of these days you're going to have to tell me where you met Barbie's blow-up, anorexic cousin."

"Her name is Candy, Hank," Warren griped. "Thank you SO much for wrecking my date with her." Hank rolled his eyes again.

"Oh relax. This is what you do. You go to the local, all-night Walmart and pick up a bouquet of flowers, then stop by her place later to apologize profusely for your boorish friends. A boyfriend's male friends' boorish behavior is a fact of life that women learn to expect. Just in case you don't know, the Walmart is the big brick building with the sign that says ‘Open 24 hours.'"

"Thank you," Warren snarled.

"Anytime," Hank replied cheerfully.

"Let's get to the more interesting question of what you want?"

"People to worship me for being the wonder I am?" Hank fired back. "Not much, really." Warren rolled his eyes at that comment.

"Okay, why are you bothering me?"

"Scott said that you have what I need to give Bobby his final gift from all of us." Bobby's face lit up in excitement.

"You mean you guys got me something else?"

"Indeed," Hank answered, and then turned to Warren. "Well?" Warren reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, which he handed over to Hank. Bobby's mouth dropped open.

"You guys got me a car?" Warren smirked at the question.

"We were getting sick of having to drive you everywhere, Drake." Bobby reached for the keys, but Hank snatched them away.

"If I ever catch you driving recklessly, I'll be the first in line to kick your butt. And paying for upkeep and insurance will be your problem," Hank warned. Bobby reached for the keys again, but Hank snatched them away, once more.

"You better use this car to come and visit me, Drake," Hank said as he threw his friend the keys and nodded his head towards a classic, blue Jeep sitting in the parking lot. Bobby leaped out of the back seat and ran over to the Jeep.

"Don't forget to thank Scott. He put a lot of work in to that beauty," Hank called after him.

"Thank you, thank you," was all Bobby kept repeating as he circled the Jeep.

"Well," Hank addressed Warren. "You want to go for a ride and see what Slim did for her?" Meaning the car, not Jean, in this case, although Hank was hoping they might find Scott and Jean along the way somewhere — and not killing each other. Warren smirked in response.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm still going to beat the crap out of you for Candy later, though."

"Of course, Warren, I wouldn't expect anything less out of you," Hank chirped cheerfully. "It's the rules of engagement, after all. Now let's see what this beauty Scott rebuilt can do."  


* * *

Scott and Jean's kiss quickly broke apart at the blaring of a horn, just in time for them to see Bobby's Jeep turning onto the road they'd been walking down.

"Those idiots are going to get thrown in jail for disturbing the peace," Jean said dryly. "Apparently our gift to Bobby was a hit." Scott groaned and put his face into his hands when the Jeep blasted by them, revealing more than he ever wanted to see of a couple of his teammates and best friends.

"You know this is not quite how I pictured this moment turning out," he told Jean. "You deserve a guy who'll shout how he feels to the heavens, not one who screams it at you at the top of his lungs. Not to mention one whose best friends drive by while showing you the miracle of two full moons in one night." And under his breath, Scott added, "I should have re-released them back into the wild years ago." Jean actually threw her head back and laughed at that comment.

"You care too much to foist them on an unsuspecting world." Scott offered her a lopsided grin.

"You're probably right. Besides, I haven't found an environment in which _to_ release them. You think Los Angles could handle the three of them?"

Grinning, Jean announced, "I don't even think L.A. could take all three of them; maybe if you spilt them up. I mean they're even a little too much for New York."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Scott replied dryly, as they watched the Jeep come back up the road from the other direction. The Jeep stopped on the road right in front of where they were standing and Warren shot them both a huge, infectious grin from the driver's seat.

"Slim, I've got to give you credit, this baby will do 60 in 5.2 and she handles like a dream. You did a great job."

Scott leaned into the Jeep and replied, "Thanks, but Hank helped a lot. Just remember, Warren, she's built higher off the ground than sport cars. She won't take turns as tightly." Warren winked at him.

"Got it. Remind me to let you look at my Jag sometime."

"Give me those keys ,Warren, and you won't get her back," Scott replied, grinning.

"Thanks, guys! This was truly the best birthday ever," Bobby announced from the front passenger's seat.

From the backseat, Hank asked, "You guys want to come along? Bobby and I are taking Warren to the Walmart to get some flowers. Apparently, he's never been inside one before."

"They scare him," Bobby confided gleefully. Hank's smile only grew bigger.

"Bobby and I are planning on getting him lost in there. Want to come?" Scott shook his head.

"Sorry, I have to get up early tomorrow to work on something. Besides, you know me. I'd feel obligated to rescue Warren."

"Then we'll see you tomorrow. Jean?"

"I think I'll sit this one out, guys; Scott and I need to talk," Jean replied from her position on the sidewalk.

"You'll tell us where you put the body if you lose your temper and kill him?" Bobby asked with an evil grin. Jean copied his expression.

"Depends on how I end up killing him."

"Don't leave any evidence, Red, and we'll see you later," Hank advised. With that the Jeep took off down the road.

"Now that they're gone," Jean said aloud, "It's time to pick up where we left off." She made a move to kiss Scott again, but he turned his head to the side, to block her. "What?" Jean asked calmly.

"I think we need to think about where this is going to lead. Don't you?"

"We can't do that later after we're done?" Jean asked, sighing. "You think too much, Scott."

"But we _should_ seriously think about this, and once you start kissing me, Red, thinking with my brain is the last thing I'm capable of doing."

"Good," she purred in his ear. "Where this is leading us is quite simple. They kiss, the screen fades to black, and then the scene opens up a few hours later with her standing in front of her dresser, brushing her mussed hair, and him still lounging in the bed." Scott stiffened for a moment and blushed as crimson as his glasses again.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea. My glasses or goggles could slip and you could get hurt." He pulled her up against him tightly. "I don't think I could handle anything happening to you because of me." Jean studied him for a moment.

"I disagree. I think it's a wonderful idea for me to take you home and make love to you until you can't move. I trust you, Scott. You need to learn to trust yourself." Scott was very quiet for a long time.

"Are you sure about this?" he finally asked. "This move could blow up in our faces in so many ways."

"I've never been surer about anything in my life. I want to take you home and make love to you," Jean responded earnestly. "And what have I told you about thinking everything to death. What's your heart telling you?" He was very quiet for a very long time, and then suddenly broke away from their embrace.

"I'll be right back. Don't move."

"Scott, where are you going?"

"I said don't move. I'll be back in about five minutes." With that Scott vanished into the darkness.

"I tell Scott I want to sleep with him," Jean grumbled to herself sitting down on the curb. "And he runs away. This is exactly how I pictured this moment happening." But he was back in less than five minutes and handed her a bag from a local drug store. He licked his lips nervously and sat down next to her.

"The candy is for you, and the other things in the bag are, too. I didn't know which ones to buy. I got a box of each and you can decide which ones you want to use." Inside the bag were a box of her favorite chocolate-covered cherries, and several boxes of condoms. Jean studied the condom boxes carefully. She'd had no idea there were that many varieties to choose from.

"You didn't have to do this. I'm on the pill," she said, blushing a little. Scott's blush got even deeper and he studied his feet for a moment.

"I figured I'd do my share. That's how we always work — right? Fifty-fifty? Besides, you're worth protecting." Jean grabbed him and kissed him senseless for that remark, then breaking off the kiss, she grinned up at him.

"Didn't I tell you that you think too much?" He just grinned back.

"Didn't I ever tell you that you don't think things out enough?"

"It's what makes life with me so exciting, Scott. So what do we do now?"

"Go home, I guess. Unless..." Scott blanched, eyeing the grass. "... you want to try it here?" Jean chuckled at that comment.

"Not really. Besides, you have me in your life now; you won't need any cheap thrills."

"I was hoping you'd say that." He looked relieved. "I wasn't looking forward to getting a rock or stick jabbing into me."

"I guess we head home then," Jean said, getting up from the curb. He also rose, and they started walking towards home.

"I'll tell you about my past on the way home, and if you still want to go through with this after hearing it, then we'll bungle through together." She shot a wicked, sly glance in his direction. "How do you feel about chocolate pudding?"

"I like chocolate pudding. How do you feel about motorcycles and... " Scott emphasized the next word to give it a double meaning. "HOT steamy showers?" Jean looked intrigued.

"I might be open to motorcycles," she said, her expression full of promises. "Among other things."

Sporting a wicked, bad boy expression of his own, Scott reached for Jean's hand, and she squeezed his right back.


End file.
